#i hope you lost braincells reading this because I sure did

[annyeojin]

“No one will ever know what lee know because lee know everything you don't know so unless lee know tell you what lee know you will never know what you don't know about lee know” -Yeojin (me)

[burst-of-iridescent]

You constantly portray Katara (in your posts and in your "dissertation") like some damsel in distress who is in a codependent relationship and does not defend her opinion in front of her partner, to the point that she allows him to mistreat her children. But the basis of her character is that she will never tolerate any shit from anyone. She always defends her opinion, and she does not oppose Aang precisely because their values are basically the same with Aang. You cannot agree with this, because then you would either have to admit that Aang is not the terrible person you paint him, or that Katara is not the perfect girl you want her to be. That is why you are forced to humiliate her and completely rewrite her character, just not to admit that she is in an equal relationship with Aang and their values coincide.

In addition, such a "katara" makes even less sense for zutara, because if her character has a tendency to codependence on her partner and a willingness to tolerate shit from him, then their relationship with Zuko would not be healthy, since Zuko is prone to self-pity, selfishness and outbursts of anger even after his redemption and he does not show even a tenth of the maturity that Aang has by the end of the show (and even if you do not agree with this, I hope you understand that if there is a tendency to codependent relationships in a person's character, then this tendency is realized in any relationship, regardless of the partner. And any such relationship will be unhealthy).

well i lost braincells reading this so i expect reparations for that, but i'm in a nice, salty mood today so... sure anon, i'll bite.

She always defends her opinion, and she does not oppose Aang precisely because their values are basically the same with Aang.

you must really dislike katara, because saying that the only reason she never challenged aang is because she never disagreed with him, rather than that her idealization of him blinded her to his flaws is... so much worse. are you telling me she thought it was right for him to recklessly burn her? or yell at her in the desert and abandon her to take care of sokka and toph alone? or kiss her without her consent? or give their airbending child preferential treatment over their other two children?

because katara doesn't hold aang to account for any of the things on that (non-exhaustive) list, and if your explanation for that is that she agreed with him, then we both know who here is really bastardizing katara's character.

do katara and aang share certain core values? sure. they're both kind, compassionate and hopeful people. but saying that katara's morals are "basically the same" as aang's is objectively untrue when they clash in both the southern raiders and sozin's comet over their personal moral codes on the sanctity of life and whether taking one can ever be justified.

neither of these conflicts are ever truly resolved, even by the end of the show. katara and aang never come to any sort of understanding or middle ground, or even raise the subject ever again, despite it being clear that they don't share the same perspective. katara even explicitly rejects aang's creed of blanket forgiveness by stating that she did not forgive yon rha and never will. i don't know about you, but that feels like a pretty major difference of opinion to me.

additionally, the fact that these are the only two times in the entire show that katara actually pushes back against aang's beliefs and decisions - and stands firm on it - proves my point, because she's only able to do so when she has absolutely no other choice. it's only the trauma of her mother's murder and the literal fate of the entire world that forces katara to challenge aang rather than excuse and coddle him. and that is unhealthy both for aang and katara, because an equal partner should be able to call you out on your flaws and mistakes without first having to be backed into a corner to do it.

That is why you are forced to humiliate her and completely rewrite her character, just not to admit that she is in an equal relationship with Aang and their values coincide.

i really adore this recent trend in atla fandom of insisting that it's zutara shippers who are responsible for adultifying katara or humiliating katara or any and all problems that exist within katara's narrative as if we personally wrote the show instead of just... pointing out what already exists in canon.

i'm not the one who robbed katara of all agency in her relationship, or refused to give her arc equal narrative space with aang's, or turned her into a subservient trophy wife with no legacy or voice. you can go take that up with the creators.

believe me anon, i wish i could manipulate canon for my nasty zutara agenda, but alas you can't have everything in life.

Zuko is prone to self-pity, selfishness and outbursts of anger even after his redemption and he does not show even a tenth of the maturity that Aang has by the end of the show

zuko didn't throw a hissy fit because the girl he liked didn't like him back, pressure her for an answer, force a kiss on her, or be preachy and judgemental towards her during one of the most difficult times of her life - but hey, whatever floats your boat.

(thank you for providing no evidence, by the way. saved me a ton of time reading more batshit insane misinterpretations of canon, or lies, or both.)

In addition, such a "katara" makes even less sense for zutara, because if her character has a tendency to codependence on her partner and a willingness to tolerate shit from him, then their relationship with Zuko would not be healthy I hope you understand that if there is a tendency to codependent relationships in a person's character, then this tendency is realized in any relationship, regardless of the partner.

i'm genuinely bamboozled as to why you seem to think that i called katara codependent, because i didn't. i don't think katara and aang are codependent, and i have never once said that. but i understand that sending anonymous, bad-faith arguments is a difficult, underappreciated job, so let's take the hypothetical and assume i did to help you out.

fictional characters are not real people, and so it is possible for them to have different dynamics with different characters. that's why i can ship taang or zutara or mailee but not kat.aang or mai.ko. because each of these relationships are written to fulfil different narrative purposes, the characters involved are not doomed to repeat the same patterns of behaviour in each relationship as real people might be - and the difference between the zutara and kat.aang interactions in canon proves it.

[cinnamontoastcrunch-15]

I posted a oneshot on my ao3 and forgot to post it here haha. Enjoy!

"Right, what has got you moping about?" Mary asks suddenly, snapping Sirius out of his daze. 

"Hm? Nothing, nothing, I'm fine," He says back vaguely. He's prepared to go back to staring into space, feeling a bit sorry for himself. Mary, however, isn't one to drop a topic. 

"You haven't talked my ear off about anything today, and it's weird, okay? What's going on?" 

"I-" He looks at her a little helplessly, but she just arches an eyebrow. Okay, so she isn't going to let this go. "I asked a guy out," He concedes with a sigh. 

"Okay, and?" 

"And he said no," Sirius adds, after an unimpressed look from Mary. 

"Sirius, I love you, and all, but you can't act like this every time someone doesn't want to go out with you. You'll be over it in a day or two, anyway!" Sirius just shakes his head, frustrated. He really doesn't think he will, not this time. 

Not with Remus. 

Yeah, he's had fleeting crushes, but Remus has been a constant. Somehow, he has stuck around, at the forefront of Sirius' mind, since fifth year. In two years, Sirius fell head over heels in love with his best friend. Well, more realised that he had never done anything but love him. 

So of course he's a little mortified that he brought Remus to the top of the astronomy tower and confessed everything, only for him to turn bright red and stutter a quick 'no'. Still, there's something else. Something that's nagging at him, that he's really hoping isn't just sadness induced delusion. 

"That's not it," Sirius says, half-truthful. "I don't think he rejected me because he doesn't like me." 

"Sirius..." She looks at him carefully, and Sirius knows he needs to elaborate. 

"Listen, I'm not stupid. I know what the signs are, and I'm sure there's something there. The amount of times we've almost kissed, I mean..." for a moment, his mind gets lost, having to blink harshly back to reality. "I- I can read him like a book, okay? There's something else going on. Some other reason why he said no. Some stupid, self-deprecating, endearing reason, and I need to know what it is." 

Mary just looks at him blankly for a second, before shrugging casually and leaning back against the sofa. 

"Ask him, then." 

"...yeah. Yeah, I think I will." 

-

Remus is revising. 

Well, trying to revise. 

No, he's staring at his book. 

It's not his fault, though! It's all Sirius'. Sirius and his stupidly perfect face, looking Remus in the eye and telling him that he loves him. Every single braincell in his head is taken up by picturing it again. Honestly, he doesn't know if it's daydreaming or torture. It doesn't really matter in the long run, it still has him pretending to flick through the pages of his History of Magic textbook, sitting up against a tree by the lake. 

He's so wrapped up in his thoughts that he doesn't even hear a person approach. He's blissfully oblivious to the presence of another person until a voice rings out. 

"Hey, Moony? Can we talk?" Sirius snaps him out of his daze. Almost immediately, he shoves his book aside, feeling a little like he's been caught thinking about him. Like Sirius can read his thoughts, or something. He cranes his neck slightly to look at the standing Sirius, and almost immediately feels guilty. He's shooting Remus a polite smile, but he can see the hurt that he's trying to cover up. 

"Huh? Yeah, yes, we can, yeah," Remus says quickly. Sirius wastes no time in dropping down opposite Remus, eyes meeting his. He isn't really sure what Sirius is going to say- 

"How do you feel about me?" He asks suddenly, watching Remus carefully. 

"What- what d'you mean?" Remus asks, confused. 

"I mean, did you really reject me because you don't have any feelings for me?" Involuntarily, Remus' eyes widen, shock rippling through him. He was hoping that they'd never have to talk about the whole... confession thing again. He's not even sure he can find the words, really. Instead, he focuses all of his energy into keeping his eyes on Sirius', not letting them fall to his mouth. "We never have to talk about this again if you don't, I promise," Sirius says quickly, almost reading Remus' mind. "I just- well, tell me you don't have feelings for me. Say the words." 

"I- I don't-" 

This is harder than Remus expected. 

He fights with himself for a few seconds, before just sighing. 

"I don't want to lie to you, Sirius," He says hopelessly, shrugging slightly. 

"So you do? You have feelings for me?" 

"Yes, Padfoot, I have feelings for you," Remus admits in a rush, feeling his face heat up. Sirius smiles triumphantly and, even now, that grin makes Remus' heart warm. A kindness weaves it's way into Sirius' features, concern etching into his eyes. 

"Why'd you say no, Moons? Was it- is it me? Whatever it is, I can work on it-" 

"No! No, it's not you, I swear!" Remus says hurriedly, his mind solely on reassuring Sirius. "It's me, it's all me, really." 

"Remus," Sirius says, with a tone so earnest that Remus feels compelled to stop and listen. "There's nothing about you that would change the way I feel, okay? Not a thing." 

He needs to stop saying everything Remus has wanted to hear. It's just making it all more painful. 

"What about the moon?" He says quickly, practically incoherently. 

"The moon? What-? Oh, Remus, you know I don't give a toss about your... furry little problem," He says calmly, glancing around for students as he speaks. 

"I quite literally turn into a monster every month, Sirius!" He exclaims quietly, desperately. Sirius isn't getting it. "You can't really hold onto any feelings. You might think you do, but you don't. You'll get over it, Sirius. I'm not doing that to either of us when it'll be over in a month, anyway." 

For a second, Sirius just stares at him. Christ, he's fucked it up, hasn't he? Sirius isn't even going to want to be his friend anymore- 

"I'm in love with you." 

Oh. 

Oh. 

"I think I've always loved you, really," Sirius adds with a breathy laugh. "And that's not in spite of anything. I don't love just one part of you. I love you. All of you. That's not going to change anytime soon. Especially not since I've known that for well over a year. You can tell me you're not good enough, but I disagree. You're everything, Rem. Merlin, I wish you could see that. I've known you for years. Your lycanthropy hasn't gotten in the way of how I feel; not once." 

"Not even-?" 

"Not once," Sirius emphasises, reaching out and grabbing Remus' hand. He squeezes it once, offering him a gentle smile. "You aren't going to change my mind. If I'm not changing yours, then I'll keep trying. Now that I know you have feelings for me, I'm not going to stop trying to make you see what I see." 

Sirius' other hand reaches out and presses against Remus' cheek. Honestly, Remus is dangerously close to tears. Too much is happening, making his head reel. He's not even sure what compels his next decision. 

All he knows is that he's leaning in and kissing Sirius. 

He hears a small, muffled noise of surprise escape Sirius, before he's kissing Remus back in earnest. It's... everything Remus could have imagined and more. Sirius' lips are soft against his, the hand that was sitting comfortably on Remus' cheek winds around and lands on the nape of his neck instead. Remus wishes that could be it. 

Instead, his brain decides to keep whirring, forcing him to pull away and talk again. 

"I'm going to die first. Shorter life span," He blurts out, instantly wincing at himself. Sirius just arches an eyebrow. 

"You're not dying tomorrow, right?" Remus shakes his head, confused. "Then it's a bit early to be thinking about dying," He says with a grin. Oh, Merlin, how it makes Remus' stomach swoop. "What else have you got? Hit me with it." Remus finally smiles properly. 

"Can't think of anything off the top of my head," He says calmly. 

"Okay, great! That means we're going to try, right?" Sirius asks gently, looking at Remus hopefully. 

"Yeah. Yeah, we're going to try." 

[shelter13]

Returning for a bit in Beemoov fandom because of Lysandr's controversial ep is one of the most satisfying feelings in the world because I told you. For a few years I was ranting about stinky uninspired fanservice that replaced cute romantic moments or something interesting in general, about oversexualization of the stories and all I got in the response is "it's a choice". I hope people that liked treesome are happy and I have nothing against them but as someone who left beemoov games for my reasons, let me tell you that the main thing that made my decision final is exactly this. How the scandals and wtf moments from a "bug" became a feature.

Notice how every time this happens? Every time the fandom experience the "boom" is when Beemoov shit their bed. The beginning of MCL:Uni, questionable treesome(s), Santa-Barbara with characters (remember Rosalya's misscarriage, Alexi cheating on Morgan, etc?). You can say that the writing became mAtUre but in reality it became an opposite of maturity and most of the characters lost their braincells and what we get is essentialy the idiotic version of maturity when the writers think that being an adult means drugs, sex and drama.

The second most important reason is that I don't feel like I'm being served. Yes, the treesome was a choice but the question is "Why was that a choice?". Did I miss the huge fandom request to have a treesome with Cas and Lysandr? Was that a wanted thing? I am sure that some people wanted this but it wasn't a big deal and there far more complaints about it than praises. And it's not the first time. I feel like I'm reading someone's fanfic on ao3 than playing an otome game that should think about my wants and wishes. Instead I get what the writer thinks is hot and cool.

[babybulls15]

(Lestappen, 3.3k, rated T, 1/1)

(Established Relationship, Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff and Crack, Christmas Fluff, Marriage Proposal, Christmas Party, Karaoke, Attempt at Humor, Perfect Christmas by S Club 7 is a good song, Mistletoe by Justin Bieber is too but not for a proposal, don't let Daniel and Lando plan your proposal if you don't want a flash-mob, but luckily Max locates a braincell before it could go too far)

Summary:

Lando got the idea that Max could also just sing the song himself. That way he didn’t have to dance but could still be the one to lead the whole thing. Apparently they did listen to Max repeatedly telling them he hated dancing, yet chose not to acknowledge his rejection of the overall idea. --- After getting outsourced from his own proposal planning, Max tries to come up with a way he can show Charles his love, without having to dance. (But ends up doing it a little bit anyway.)

Read it on Ao3 or below. :)

(I hope you enjoy and I'd love to hear your thoughts! :3)

------------------

Charles had a weird relationship with Christmas.

Of course, Charles himself would never admit that. He always said, that it was nothing more than a normal amount of enjoyment. But Max knew better.

Charles was obsessed.

Over the course of his life, Max was sure, his boyfriend had bought at least two years salaries worth of Christmas decorations. From little Christmas tree ornaments to big light-up stars, he seemed to have decorations for every available surface of the house. Max was relieved that Charles drew the line at all things inflatable, because even though he loved him, that would’ve been a step too far. Other than that, all bets seemed to be off though. A few years ago Charles had even escalated to replacing kitchen utensils and appliances with Christmas-themed ones, when the holiday time started.

And oh boy did it start. Early. At least for Max’s taste.

Charles didn’t go so far as to begin celebrating his favourite holiday on the first of September, when the supermarkets would kickoff selling Christmas related products, but he did start shopping for what he seemed to await the whole year.

The week before the first advent.

For most of that week, Max made sure to be as far away from the flat as possible. Because in addition to being obsessed with the holiday in general, Charles was particularly obsessive when it came to the perfect arrangement of all things Christmas in their home. Everything had to be in the right place and light up at the exact same time. When all of it was set up and done though, Max always helped him tidy up the packaging and store it all for the end of the season. Then they usually fell onto the couch, from where Charles could admire his work and point out all the little details to Max.

Max had never really gotten the hype, if he was honest. Sure it was pleasant to have a few things to make the flat feel cozy and warm during the winter – he could appreciate a nice string light or a well decorated Christmas tree. Still, holidays, particularly Christmas, seemed so oversold to him. Throughout his life, growing up, dealing with marketing and sponsorships for every available holiday, Max had simply lost the enthusiasm for it. He could still appreciate the cheer, but didn’t understand why some people got so overly excited, they had to theme their whole lifes around it.

But Max understood Charles.

He understood how much it meant to him, to have an occasion dedicated to family and celebrating the love between all of them. To get to have down-time and just revel in being near all the people he sees so little of the rest of the year.

Max also understood that Charles just really loved decorating for it.

So he endured the perfectionism, the timers blocking every available outlet and the themed kitchen tongs. There was nothing he would not do for Charles.

This was were the problems started though.

Because Charles knew. He knew and at least during the holidays he seemed to take shameless advantage of it. Roping Max into every Christmas-related activity he could think of.

One of these activities also included another thing Max normally didn’t really care for. Karaoke.

Every year around the third advent, Charles gathered all their available friends and family for a Christmas-themed karaoke night. To celebrate what was, to Charles, the absolute best thing about that time of the year. Christmas Music.

He always booked the room a year in advance and would demand of everyone to be free, because it’s a year from now, what else could you have already planned?

And that’s how Max found himself, sitting in a private karaoke bar, with about as much decorations as their own living room, surrounded by people who where important to them, trying unsuccessfully to calm himself down.

He could not fuck this up. This was important.

Because Max was on a mission.

He knew how much Charles loved Christmas, how much he loved Christmas-Karaoke, how much he loved their families and friends. And Max also hoped he knew how much Charles loved him. Enough to say yes to marrying him.

He had been planning this for a while now. The thought of proposing to his boyfriend on his favourite holiday had been bumbling around Max’s mind for even longer. Yet he had never had the right idea on how to go about it.

So seeing that after being together for 4 years, Max did not want to delay it any further, in July of that year he had caved and told his friends. His first mistake. Because involving Lando and Daniel could never end in a way that was helpful to anyone.

Their initial reaction had of course been one of support. They were happy for the two of them. But Max should have seen the chaos that followed coming.

He had told them what he had come up with so far. Which was not really anything at all, aside from the vague idea, that it had to be around Christmas and needed to have something to do with music. Lando and Daniel had been understandably sceptical and immediately started taking over the planning.

It had all gone downhill from there.

After hours of discussions about proposal plans that seemed to have nothing to do with neither Christmas, music nor Max, they had come to the conclusion that the only way the whole thing would work, was if they were there. So no private moment just for the two of them to enjoy. No, it had to be something big, something that would make an impression. Not just on Charles but hopefully on the whole world.

A flash mob.

And even worse, a flash mob to Mistletoe by Justin Bieber.

Max didn’t know what he found more horrible about that idea – the song, the fact that he was supposed to dance, or the mass of other people that would be doing it with him. He was self-aware enough to know that any kind of dancing from him before a proposal would not end in the result he’d like. But Lando and Daniel had stopped listening to him at that point. All entranced in their amazing idea and already working on choreography.

Fuck.

But apparently being backed into a corner by his overenthusiastic friends, seemed to get his brain working. While they tried to decide on which racing circuit to rent, Max thought about all the things he did not like about their idea and from there tried to find out what he thought would work.

Christmas and music. But no Justin Bieber.

And their families. Because even though Max shuddered at the image of a hundred strangers dancing to a teenagers Christmas pop song, he rather liked the idea of sharing the moment with people. People he actually knew and cared about. So maybe their friends could come too.

But organizing a special gathering would be hard to pull off in secret. And bringing it up to Charles directly would probably only raise suspicions. They were spending the actual holiday only with Charles’ family in Monaco. And Max’s mum and sister were heading to a tropical island on Christmas Eve to mix it up a little. Their annual karaoke meet-up would be the last time they’d all see each other.

The karaoke meet-up.

It seemed to have everything, happening close enough to Christmas for Charles to be in the right mood, involving music, all the relevant people and most importantly, no dancing. At least not the mass choreographed kind.

So Max had finally settled on an occasion, but was still coming up a bit short on the actual execution. He resigned himself to letting his two friends have their fun, thinking of a million ways to embarrass him in front of his boyfriend and the world. However he would need to cut them off at an appropriate time, so it didn’t get out of hand. In the meantime, Max could definitely use some of their plan to his advantage though.

Daniel had tasked him with writing the proposal speech, which was nice considering he was the one doing the actual proposing, but it also presented another problem.

He didn’t know what to say.

Or rather he knew what he wanted to convey, what he felt for Charles and what he wanted him to know, but Max could not, for the life of him, find words that would express that.

“Just say what’s in your heart.”, had been Daniel’s advice, which did nothing to loosen the knot that seemed to have tied up the pipeline between Max’s heart and his head.

Ultimately it was Lando who had the idea that did just that.

“You could always just quote something.”, he had shrugged while scrolling through his phone to find a suitable dance group to hire.

Max, who had been prepared to be as dismissive of the idea as he had been of all the dancers he’d been shown so far, had paused and taken a second to think about it. Sure, quoting would take away from the originality of his speech, but it would still be as genuine. He could even quote someone Charles admired, so it would be doubly heartfelt.

With this new plan in mind, Max started to look through all the books he knew Charles liked and that had romance in them. There weren’t too many but none of them seemed to really fit their situation.

Again Lando came to the rescue. Even if it was not how he thought he did.

After giving up on trying to convince Max to hire professional dancers for the proposal-flash-mob-that-was-definitely-happening, Lando got the idea that Max could also just sing the song himself. That way he didn’t have to dance but could still be the one to lead the whole thing.

(Apparently they did listen to Max repeatedly telling them he hated dancing, yet chose not to acknowledge his rejection of the overall idea.)

Still, Max could’ve hit himself. His whole plan revolved around them being at a karaoke bar, but he didn’t think of just finding a song to quote? And there were so many opportunities. Christmas songs were littered with cheesy love declarations and if something didn’t feel completely right, he could just try to rewrite a bit. At least it wouldn’t be a whole speech.

So that settled it. He would find a song to sing to Charles and convey the love and dedication he had for his boyfriend, without making a complete fool of himself.

Or so he thought.

Because yes, in theory, that sounded like a bullet-proof plan to him. In reality Max had to get up on that stage alone and sing - actually sing - a song that would hopefully not make Charles say no to his question.

Max was so fucked.

He tried calming himself once again by getting up for another drink. He was a Formula 1 driver, for fucks sake. Why was this so hard?

It didn’t help that he hadn’t told anyone he would be doing this. Not even Lando and Daniel.

Max looked around. He could see the two of them sitting on one end of the couch, snickering at each other. They got some weird looks from Pierre and Carlos sitting next to them, clearly not following what was happening. It was probably nothing good anyway. Charles was currently on stage with his mum, singing a strangely not-really-weirder-than-normal version of ‘Baby it’s cold outside’, which was a feat considering that it was already a pretty weird song to begin with.

In any case it could not get weirder than Daniel and Lando’s rendition of ‘Santa Baby’ they had all witnessed an hour ago. Max had had the strong urge to cover his sister’s eyes, because whatever that was, it was not something he wanted her to have to sit through. Charles had apparently not been as strong as him, because when Max had looked over during a particularly disturbing part (involving a lot more thrusts and voice lilting than ever necessary) his boyfriend had been trying to shield Arthur from the sight, Lorenzo laughing hysterically next to him.

That had fortunately been the last time his two friends had been allowed to sing together. Every time they had made to get up after, someone else had managed to get one of them to agree to sing something harmless with them.

So al things considered, the evening was going great. Max had even gotten up on stage himself - although not alone. Never alone.

It had become a small tradition, that Charles and Max would each choose a song for them to sing together. That way, they both had some element of surprise to their performance. This year Charles had chosen ‘Let it Snow’, traditional yet romantic, while Max had gone for something a little more up to date. He kind of felt bad for Lando and Daniel, seeing as the grand plan they were working on, would never see the light of day, so he had chosen ‘Mistletoe’. It was worth it just for the look on everyone’s faces when the opening began playing, but had been surprisingly fun as well.

However now he did not feel as confident as he had then.

So as Charles and his mum finished their song and everyone applauded, Max got even more nervous. He knew this was it. The moment. The opportunity to go up there and just. Do it.

Somehow his body had gotten the message before his brain did, because by some miracle Max ended up on the stage, in front of the computer, typing in the song he was going to sing.

He was going to do it.

In his haze, Max had not noticed that, while he climbed up the small steps, the room had fallen eerily silent. Everyone was sitting on the couch expectantly looking at the stage. He only realized that all the attention was on him, when he turned around.

And froze.

Max looked at the crowd. Took in his mother, his sister, Charles’ mum and brothers, all with a slight look of confusion in their eyes. He decidedly did not look at Daniel and Lando. And then his eyes fell on Charles and his nervousness evaporated.

Because Charles just smiled at him.

It wasn’t a knowing smile. He definitely had no idea what was going to happen. But it was a reassuring one. The one that always made Max feel ready to face any and all challenges thrown his way. That made everyone else in the room disappear. So without breaking eye contact, he smiled back and pressed play.

The opening melodies of ‘Perfect Christmas’ by S Club 7 started playing. The background singers soft ‘do-do-do’ filling the room. Max took up the microphone.

“Hey everyone.”, he greeted, waving a little awkwardly. “You’re probably wondering what the hell I am doing up here. And alone at that. I’d just like to take the opportunity to say something.” A pause. “And also sing.” Multiple people chuckled. Charles was still looking expectantly at him.

“Charles.”, Max began again and understanding dawned in his boyfriends widening eyes. “I have thought a lot about what I want to say up here. What I want to say to you. And you know me, I’m not particularly good with words.” Max rubbed his neck and his boyfriend chuckled. “But I love you and I want this to be perfect for you. So Lando suggested I could just...borrow someone else's.” Max’s eyes flitted to his friend, who gave him a smile and a wink. “So that’s what I’m gonna try to do now.”, he continued, “Not every part of this song works, so I’m gonna try to just...riff it? But in the end I hope you’ll know what I’m trying to say.”

With his last words the second chorus hit and Max tried to make his voice sound as even as possible as he sang, however crookedly: “The perfect ending to a wonderful year. Would be to celebrate the good times with you here. 'Cause I know for sure, I never wanted anything more. “

He tried a little shuffle from one side to another. Charles’ eyes following his every move.

“The greatest gift that there could be. Wrapped underneath my Christmas tree. Would be the same my whole life through. I'd spend the perfect Christmas with you. Though the winter seems so long. My faith in love has kept me strong. So if I had a wish come true. I'd spend the perfect Christmas with you.” At the last words he took the ring box out of his pocket, got down on one knee and opened it.

“Charles Leclerc, will you marry me?”, he asked, voice wavering just the tiniest bit.

But his worries were unfounded, because Charles, who had already leapt from his place on the couch when Max got the box out, now practically ran to the stage. His eyes were welling up with tears. When he got to Max, standing on eye level with him kneeling on the platform, he threw his arms around Max’s neck while giving him an enthusiastic “Yes! Yes! Oh god yes!”

The whole room erupted into applause, but Max could only concentrate on Charles in front of him, his fiancé. Slipping the ring onto Charles’ finger, then his hands cupping Max’s cheeks and their lips connecting in the most wonderful kiss they had ever shared, Max was so relieved. Relieved he had done it, but also relieved Charles had said yes. He’d had no real doubt he wouldn’t but there was always a sliver of a chance.

They broke apart, resting their foreheads together and looking deeply into each others eyes. “I love you, cheri.”, Charles whispered. “I love you too, Schatje.”, Max whispered back. “And I’ll never stop.” Charles huffed a wet laugh at that. “Me neither. I promise.”, he said. They smiled at each other for a second longer, before being pulled apart and into the embraces of their friends and family.

After a lot of bone-crushing hugs from their mothers and siblings, Max came face to face with his two immensely disappointed flash-mob-proposal planners. He could tell they were going for the full guilt trip, but Max could also see the genuine excitement in Lando’s eyes and the way Daniel’s lips would barely stay in the frown he was trying to put on. After just blankly staring at each other for a few seconds all three of them burst into laughter. Then Max got a hug from both of them as well.

“Mate why didn’t you say anything sooner? We would’ve totally helped you.” Daniel said. Lando just rolled his eyes. “I think you know exactly why he didn’t ask us again. We went a bit overboard didn’t we?”, he asked, looking a bit sheepish. Max just laughed again. “It’s fine, you did help me a lot. So thank you.”, he said and hoped they knew how much he meant it. “But let’s just shelf the flash-mob idea for one of your proposals.” All three of them grinned at each other.

The evening didn’t end there, but Max’s performance remained the last thing to happen on the stage. No one wanted to follow that. So they sat and talked, simply enjoyed each others company. Just like Christmas was supposed to be.

While Charles, as always, seemed to entertain the whole party, Max sat back and let himself revel in the fuzzy feelings he found himself full of. He didn’t think he had ever enjoyed something Christmas-related this much. But as so often before, Charles had somehow found a way to bring Max out of his shell and get him excited about something he had lost faith in a long time ago.

Looking at Charles now, enthusiastically talking about an encounter with a childhood friend he’d had at the grocery store last week, Max couldn’t help but smile. Charles was his fiancé. His fiancé. The man he was going to marry. How did he get so lucky?

Then another thought struck him.

What if Charles wanted them to write their own vows?

[primeministerofantarctica]

A3! reading club: prologue

Starting off with a prolepsis is a nice technique, although I think it's interesting that only Harugumi gets spotlighted here. Probably to avoid spoilers from later troupes.... Either way, I love how Sakuya's observations serve as an introduction to the other members. Masumi's cool-headed, Tsuzuru won't rest until his scripts are perfect, Itaru's anxious about pulling this off successfully (he does care :')), and Citron's a man of mystery.

I never really thought about this before, but I like that the prologue establishes that Izumi has the experience and knowledge necessary to qualify as a theater director. She's not just diving in headfirst with no idea what she's doing.

Also, this whole "street act" thing sends me every time it's mentioned. Veludo Way has to be a tourist destination, surely Izumi's not the first person to freak out over someone faking an illness. You know those horror stories about comedians dying of heart attacks on-stage bc the audience thought they were doing A Bit; this seems like a disaster waiting to happen. What if you got into an argument with someone and a bunch of strangers started clapping.

At least Tasuku's nice enough to come over and make sure Izumi's alright. He's not going to be really relevant for a good long while, but we're already establishing that he does care about other people, despite Godza's "every man for himself" culture.

Oh, Tsuzuru, just be glad you're not a college student in the US. >_>

Sakyo, you JUST recognized the first and only person you had a crush on, the daughter of Yukio himself, and you're telling her to get lost? Why? Are you trying to save Izumi from the heartbreak of caring about something futile? Because if so, you absolutely suck at it.

Izumi's reactions are the best. Also, shout-out to Sakai-san for being able to pull off "bad at acting" without dissolving into the 100% flat monotone typical when actors try to play bad actors. You can tell Sakuya's trying, but his pauses are placed just randomly enough to be awkward. From an acting standpoint, that's got to be incredibly hard to pull off.

This makes me wince. In retrospect, it's so obvious how much Sakyo cares about this theater. He was willing to pause the demolition project for the absolutely miniscule chance that Matsukawa had somehow, miraculously, secured a bestselling performance. Of course he hasn't, but the fact that Sakyo was still willing to give him one more chance speaks volumes.

Unfortunately, he's also a realist, and he's right. People love touting "hard work" as the only thing an artist needs to succeed, but without money, most people simply don't have the financial stability to really dedicate themselves to their craft. It's harsh, it sucks, and it's unfair, but it's also true. I don't remember if we get Sakyo's backstory in the main story or a later event, but going off it it makes sense that this is the additude he's adopted.

This hits harder after finding out Sakuya basically ran away from home :(. Not like he couldn't go back to his aunt and uncle, but that's got to be crushing.

I love how Izumi is mentally pspspsing Matsukawa SO HARD to back her up, just like he did with her earlier. There is a single braincell ping-ponging between these two and Sakyo's just watching this trainwreck.

Sakuya's reaction to Matsukawa saying he cooks all the food is gold. Ofc he's too polite to say it outright, but the fact that even Sakuya feels the need to warn Izumi about Matsukawa's culinary skills is just. So funny.

Speaking of which, I think it's interesting how Sakuya's (known optimist and sunshine child) first reaction to realizing Izumi was lying is a despondent "Does that mean the troupe is going under after all?" He immediately cheers up and snatches the smidge of hope offered to him, but this little piece of character writing goes a long way in setting up his hopefulness as something that isn't based on naivety.

I'm running out of screenshots and too far in to consider making another post, but gosh. Masumi, I love you, but you are making it REALLY easy to remember why I didn't at first. I will concede that his blushing and not being able to look Izumi in the eyes is cute, though. If there was more of that and less of...this, I might have warmed up to him a lot earlier.

Also, Tsuzuru agreeing to join after finding out there's free food is an absolute Mood. Five minutes of screen time and he's already a voice for college students everywhere.

The last few minutes are pretty much what we'd expect - Tsuzuru (very conveniently) says he's a scriptwriter, Izumi eagerly accepts the free labor before he can join a union (I'm joking, I'm joking.), they run back to the theater and Sakyo says he'll give them one more chance. The conditions won't be revealed until the next chapter, but it really is a testament to Sakyo's love for Mankai just how lenient he's being. A month might be cutting it pretty close when prepping for a play, but Sakyo's a debt broker in the freaking Yakuza, and almost definitely acting as a middleman between this company and someone higher up. Ofc the Yakuza here are a lot more lighthearted than the ones in real life, but that's still got to be incredibly risky.

[coffeecat1983]

Down the Road pt 9 (finale) (Mario Movie Fanfic)

(Warning for triggers, underage drinking and thoughts of self harm)

"So anyway, I sat there and downed what I could stomach of the bottle, making sure to have enough braincells to hide it in the neighbor's trashcan before going inside. I didn't get drunk because of my date, I did it because had something else in mind. If you hadn't left the chair out, I hadn't tripped and woke you up, and we talked like we did... I would have made a very, very bad decision."

He was startled as Arthur lunged, embracing him. He was trembling violently.

It wasn't just the sound of Tony entering that woke him, it was a nightmare. He was standing beside his brother's bed, shaking his shoulder, trying to wake him. Something kept telling him to pull back the covers but every time he tried, his blood ran cold and he couldn't do it. He didn't want to see what was hidden there. All he could manage was to keep begging his twin to wake up. That feeling of him in the back of his mind, that connected sensation they always shared, was gone.

"Art? Hey, it's okay," Tony gently rubbed his back. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you so bad."

"I knew." Arthur choked out. "I knew something was wrong that night." He buried his face against Tony's shoulder. They held onto each other for a moment, both lost in thoughts of memories and everything that had happened the past few days. "I don't say it very much, but I'd be lost without you." Arthur said. "And I'd be dead without you." Arthur sat back with a shaky sigh. "You um, you think the kid'll be okay?" Tony gave a nod. "Yeah, I don't know if he'll ever trust Giovanni again, but he's got some good support behind him." "That's a relief. I can't wait to find out his type, this is gonna be fun. Speaking of what's your type?" he asked, eyebrow raised. "Like I'd tell you that!" Tony said, smacking him with the pillow again. Arthur ducked, laughing. "You gotta tell me sooner or later!" "No, I don't! Now get to bed, you idiot." Tony said with affection.

Two weeks later…

Tony lounged on one of the roof benches, taking in the evening air. He heard the rooftop door open, and soft footsteps. "Uncle Tony?" came Luigi's voice. Tony sat up, giving his nephew a warm smile. "Hey kiddo, have a seat." Luigi sat next to him and Tony noticed he was fidgeting a little. "How are things?" he asked. "G-Good," Luigi said. He turned a light pink. "I um, I have a date this Friday." Tony grinned and ruffled his hair. "Hey! Look at you, mister hot stuff! With the guy you were talkin' with?" Luigi ran his fingers through his hair to fix it and nodded. "Uh huh, he likes building models too, so we're going to that new hobby shop that opened up, and then maybe to that little cafe that's nearby." Tony put his arm around Luigi's shoulders. "Proud of you, kid, real proud. I imagine your bro is driving you nuts about it?" Luigi buried his face in his hands. "You have no idea!" he groaned, making Tony burst into laughter. "Hey that's what bros do! But jokes aside, I hope you have a great time." "Thanks. And Uncle Tony?" "Yeah-oof!" Tony was caught off guard as Luigi grabbed him in a tight hug. When he spoke, his voice was muffed as he pressed his face against Tony's shoulder. "Thanks for everything." Tony returned the hug. "Always, Luigi, always."

END. By "CC"

(OH MY GAWD IT'S DONE! I loved writing this one, it came out of NOWHERE!) Thanks for reading! Available in long format, 4 parts, on Ao3 under CoffeeCat1983. See you there!

[coffee-in-veins]

As someone who (very casually) enjoys Eldin Ring, I am very curious what you think

thank you for the ask! ^^ that was quick xD

well, then, i hope you won't be upset about what i have to say about it. i genuinely love it from worldbuilding perspective and it looks cool and thrilling more often than not. other things, though...

for the context, i did my best to like it for like casual 80 hours or so, playing very slowly, very cautiously, and probably very inefficiently, because i would often just chill at the location, so those hours mean almost nothing. i managed to kill the grafted guy, the moon lady, got to meet Ranni (god i remember at least one name from it all without cheating!) and got to the point where i was supposed to get into the autumn plateau which name i won't remember even if you torture me.

and this is my first gripe with the game. this one is more of a personal struggle, so take it with a grain of salt. i struggle quite a lot with remembering names, both irl and in media. i remember visuals, i remember voices, i remember plots. but names? beats me. hell, i only remembered Dis and Rey after like half a year of a deep dive into DD, if it gives you any perspective.

with that explanation out of the way, comes the gripe itself: most of the time, i was completely, utterly and hopelessly lost who were those people, whom they wanted killed and where they wanted me to go. my quests would go something like this:

"Go fight General Radahn!" someone said. I think I saw their helmet, twice, and I remember they are a blacksmith. probably. i remember the voice tho. they are genuinely nice to me, so i'd probably do it.

however, not a single braincell rumbled in that head of Tarnished of mine as i sat in front the screen and looked at them blankly: "Who?"

but the NPC already continued: "They are in Caelid!"

not a drop of recognition. "Where?" okay, i sit and think frantically, i have a map, maybe it has parts named, maybe i won't have to wander for half an hour before giving up and going to the wiki again...? no? well, fuck, maybe some locations are named? right! locations. jackpot, some have 'caelid' in them. ah, the red poison swamp! dude, why didn't you say so? on my way!

me, meeting Radahn: aaahhh, that big dude on a tiny horse! sure! from the promo! wait, who asked to kill him again? and why?

and that was every time. there are dozens of names and places and they all are deeply connected and you somehow are expected to keep it all in your head or make notes on a piece of paper, idk. call me whiny, or call it an aesthetic (put a pin into that, we will return to it later), but wouldn't it be convenient to have something like bestiary that Witcher 3 had, with a tab for people you met or heard about? nothing too concrete, hell, this series is know for being frugal with explanations but... like, something, so i don't have to keep wiki constantly open and ready to alt tab to understand who am i talking to and who are they talking about.

and while we're talking about dialogues, BG3 made me understand how much i need a tab where i can re-read recent dialogues. if not to understand things better with all the ye old-english-y words some of us filthy non-eng speakers have no idea even exist, then to see how those names are spelled so we can search them in wikis later.

and have you noticed a thing which is going like a red string through all of my writing? wiki. hell, i'm writing all of the above using wiki because i still don't remember how those people are called. you get used to it just to know who's who. wanna laugh at me? because i was so stressed out by the first bosses, i completely blacked out at the first boss, only seeing vague shapes, and i genuinely thought that Godrick and Morgott were the same guy for the longest time because i was stressed out, didn't have enough time to look at them and was frantically thinking of moves and skills instead of actually watching the cutscene with proper attention. it didn't help that they both spoke with similar tones and in a ye old-english-y way, and were in the same location. so yeah, you can imagine my confusion during the game later on...

there's one thing, though. constantly checking names in wiki makes you feel like it's fine to check other things too. and, Io and behold, before you know it, you're just tired and grumpy and look up where the hell are things you need, quests you missed, resource nodes... and suddenly, the best part of the game (exploration) is gradually chipped away, without you even noticing.

i mean, i had to look up how the horse is called and I love Torrent to bits, even if he is as responsive to controls as a DD2 bangwagon that was put on two very greasy, very non-cooperative pigs on skis. which is another gripe of mine, but the poor guy is so abandoned in the second half of the game, that it's genuinely depressing.

which brings us to my second most gripe in the game: menus. remember that aesthetic pin? let's get it out. menus are a genuine pain in the ass to navigate, they don't respond to mouse (oh, we're gonna return to that. oh, we're gonna...), and for the first thirty or so HOURS i wasn't aware there were other tabs in the inventory. genuinely. i simply wasn't aware. i hovered the mouse on tabs, they weren't scrolling, and knowing that this is primary console game, i didn't pay much attention to the keys besides those, assuming (rightfully, as i thought) that those were for consoles to switch tabs. forgive me for my 'pc master race' mentality, but i'm not used to things in the menu not being responsive to the mouse. so some of the quest items you see in there somewhere? any tab after keys? nope, i didn't know they existed.

remember painting quests? i loved those. but also i had no fucking idea you carried a copy somewhere in the bowels of the inventory tab. thus, like the moron i was, i would come to them, make a photo of my screen on my phone, and try to go around, keeping the photo up on my phone as a reference. or go back to the actual in world painting to check. my frustration was immeasurable and my pain was immense. or maybe you wanna find the weapon you just looted and see if it is of any use? pff, good luck, hope you remembered its name or how it looked, or didn't have anything in your inventory, else get ready to go through a warehouse of other gear you carry. not to mention that sorting on those is extremely non-intuitive. why are lantern and looking glass and prattling pates in one section but wraith calling bell and mimic veil have separate ones? why is horse whistle with flasks and flasks 2.0? why are memory of grace with the flasks and horse whistle? am i missing something?? genuine question.

quick side note while we’re at the topic of prattling pates, should i even mention how notoriously convoluted the better ending for my sweet boy Boc is…?

not to mention that 'Switch display' option is very... unexplained, to say politely. it turns out you can see how many runes exactly is Golden Rune [7] - if you switch the view. because having explanation of 'use to gain many runes' on one screen totally gives you a hint that it would say 'use to gain 2500 runes' in another.

i mean i get it. the series has a reputation. it is dark souls 4, 5 and 6 with a new coat of pain (or maybe paint), it has to be hard, you gotta 'git good', you have to fight for every sliver of lore and then listen to 12 hours of youtube explanations anyway just to have a semblance of understanding what's going on. but - and this is an important but - there's a difference between working for the lore and being unable to understand what the hell you looted and not being aware you can actually know how rune [6] 'many' differs from rune [9] 'many' without trying to go and use it and make a table with those orrrr - say it with me! have the wiki opened.

also the fact that nowhere does it say that spirit ashes can be summoned only in specific areas AND you need a bell you need to get later on somehow bumbling into Ranni is simply false marketing. i took twin imps as my trinket and boy ho boy, lemme tell you someone was pissed for the first hour of the game...

which brings me to creme de la creme of my gripes. the controls. pc port is... well it exists, and i still haven't recovered from that. it makes you extremely aware from the word go that you're not the target demographic. that you're unwelcome here. that no one looked at it and thought: huh, we have battles where we expect Tarnished to get on and off Torrent mid-fight, so how shitty of us would it be if we make Torrent summon be "F + [arrow up]" for keyboards? you know, so the player would have to get their hand off the mouse. mid-battle. naaah, that would work just fine, ship that bad boi as is! oh, and make it non-mappable too. they have keyboard with 75% keys being unused? who cares! it mirrors gamepad, and that is what truly matters.

i said it once when a pal of mine let me use his acc and try Dark Souls. i think it was the third one...? well, my experience was - 'i'm not fighting the monsters, i'm fighting the game'. and it's pretty much the same for Elden Ring. did you know there's a power off hand attack? i didn't. did you know there's a way of switching your weapon to hold it in two hands? i didn't did you know you can make it on the fly? i sure as hell didn't. did you know your RH attack is bound to your LMC and it fucks your brain when you play because here it plays role and you can fuckup by using weapons in 'wrong' hands? yeah, that i experienced a plenty.

do you know how i know all those? i plugged in a gamepad and oh god all of the mapping makes so much goddamn sense! i had to reverse-map things because i only played FF9 with a controller, and was extremely uncomfortable with it in a non-turn-based game. which left a taste of bile in my mouth.

loading times are awesome thought. i dunno how they achieved that, but that's hella impressive for a game this big.

i ended up liking the world. vistas. lore that people dig into. but this game isn't for me. not because i'm not interested but because i have a setup they clearly don't care about. and it's okay, i guess. but i have too little free time to spend it fighting not the monsters the game sets in front of me as a challenge but the game itself

hope it wasn't too convoluted ^^'

and thanks again for the ask! :}

[shinakazami1]

Been busy lately so I don’t have much time to review and edit, but here I am! (this was supposed to be sent on the anniversary.) (edit 1: It’s already (edit 2: halfway through) november.)

(edit 3: i gave up. words be damned, i’m sending this. there should have been more. curse you writing)

(edit 4: reminder. write a long ask anywhere else except the actual tumblr ask window. sending again just to make sure i didn’t hallucinate all this- it would be so, very embarassing...)

hehehehehe love your art. Crunchy. Pringles. Crushing it in my mouth. yummy colors and perspective (That bucket sexyman design looking kinda fine though.,..i mean who said that) (->absolutely normal behavior)

I love how you interact with others’ art, leaving your comments and compliments. Really appreciate that little motivation boost and positivity you spread :)

As seen from Paratober, you seem to take the prompts beyond their face value and messed around with the concepts of those prompts (gonna put Jester in a carton box hehe. Can we have Jester loafing? Loafing in a box?)

Personally I’m not a writer, so I don’t know how you guys’ brains work but I love how you come up with interesting ideas stemming from the game’s original material, expanding, digging deeper into them. I look up at you all in wonder hehe

Also, I read unheard wishes.

You see, I rarely ever seek out angst. I came in there with “this is gonna hurt but I can totally bring myself through this”

Boy was I wrong. Now, because I didn’t read it properly enough to leave a comment that would do it justice (time restraints get you like that), I won’t give a lengthy review. But just so you know, my general feelings were “who do you think you are. did you really think you had the right to hurt me like this. *inhales* aaaaaaaaaAA *cars crashing glass breaking sound effects idk* *lays motionless on the ground* (affectionate)”

Maybe i’ll read your filk wip next. Biology is fun :]

It’s your way with the images you make for your stories and art. Candlecurator? Whatever’s up with fernarrator? I’m not listing the ones in your writings. A lazy, lazy anon I am, I know. [insert another keyboard smash]

I haven’t been here for a while so i don’t really remember much, sorry ;; (-> fake fan detected?!? *vine boom*)

Your theories definitely left the strongest impressions on me. How do you all think like that?? (this goes to the rest of you, tsp theorists/analysts/meta. what are you all on??? damn. give me some.). Perhaps it’s a writer’s thing, maybe I’m just incompetent in this deep thinking kind of stuff.

My favourite was the nature connection theory. Absolutely ate that up. (definitely not because of my bias for plants and nature-related stuff, noooo-). You somehow connected the plants in the parable, creating these wonderful strings of text about what you saw in these plants, the implications, and then sharing those ideas to us. Give me your braincells, shina. Give me-

[Close your eyes.]

Anyway- I think you’re pretty neat :]

Have a nice day!

✨✨✨!!!!!307 ANON!!!✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

ᴬᵍᵃᶦⁿ since I was already writing a draft to respond to your previous ask. The fact you have this copy makes me hope you are saving these asks somewhere because I lost a lot of posts thanks to the great Tumblr editing system....

Happy (belated and too early at the same time hehe) anniversary 307 :] To your edits - PLEASE start writing drafts somewhere else oshsaoifas I don't want you to lose your versions again. You might say you are not a writer but you decide to write such beautiful comments and asks - value your words more :]

Anon. I have an exam this week so it will take my energy but DO KNOW YOU WILL GET BUCKET SEXYMEN SKETCH. I imagine you will see it in a few months but,,, I hope you will like it, just like you like my art in general.

I feel now in retrospect so silly I hadn't done this sooner!! While I sometimes don't have the energy to comment on other people's stuff in my own comments, I know how much joy being told your words could make someone happy :] And I love interacting like that!! Shared appreciation!!! That's why I adore Tumblr in general - it feels most organic in that ability to engage with others as a social media.

I'm glad you like the Paratober prompts! I am happy I mixed the prompts to try to get even more creative with them!! And feel free to put him in every box!! Some old art of Jester in a box:

(I gotta finally start uploading my old art I do have. There is so much...

FEEL FREE PLEASE TO LEAVE MORE COMMENTS EVEN A SILLY ONE BUT OUGHHH I am so proud of Unheard WIshes so thank you so much <333333 Glad you could enjoy

Just remember anon that I do not know your age and the rating for Filk is Mature so please respect the ratings :]]] Ao3 tagging system is there for a reason!! However I still keep on getting opinions that Filk seems to target 16+ demographic since it's more South Park style...But still, please respect it :]

Oh sure, you are so lazy *looks at your very detailed an amazing asks* so lazy. But WAH THIS IS LIKE??? A VERY RARE CANDLECURATOR APPRECIATION??? Like I know folks see Fernator and like him but to hear you like her means so much to me ;;;;;;

And hey - life gets busy :] The fact you wanted to come again, read my story and wrote this, rewrote even god knows how many times... I will always think fondly of you.

DUDE OUGH I need to return to theories, I have so many yet to share,,, you wanting one means a lot to me :} I worked hard on the Fernator theory post so I am glad to hear you could enjoy it! I might do a pool on what people could want hehe

[Closes my eyes and tries to close yours]

I think you are very neat, 307 anon. Thank you, for being you and I hope I will see you one day again. Every ask, I worry it's also a farewell. And then - you come back. I hope you are okay out there - I hope your life, even if so busy, gives you moments of happiness and calmness.

Have a lovely day, 307 :]

[jimimn]

🥴😭😳🤯😩 My god how to form words... I just rewatched the teaser and compared to that, the haunting choir was stronger in the YouTube shorts version and 🤯🤯 I lost my mind. The choir and the horror like harmonization that you mentioned sounds AMAZING. There is a really high female(?) voice in the very back, holding that note for like almost the entirety of the yt shorts and it literally just fucking catapulted me into the sun. There is a haunting vibe mix of Fake Love from MDP and the choir reminded me of that. I'm really really loving this song so far and they literally just showed us almost the same thing twice 😭 but I'm already so obsessed with it. AND THE DANCERS? LIKE PTD ON STAGE BLACK SWAN??? JIMIN IN THE CENTER??? And the dancers mimicking the choir's screams??? There is so much to unpack here, I need to go on twitter and find people who have the braincells to unpack all this 😂

And now back to my previous ask: Omg don't even mention Jimin dancing in water or rain to me 😭 I would d.e. Oh and yeah you're right, he probably has more outfits in the mv I DIDN'T EVEN THINK OF THAT 😭😭😭

I know exactly what eyes you're talking about and I hate him when he does that. I generally consider myself a soft Jimin stan b̶u̶t̶ l̶a̶t̶e̶l̶y̶ h̶e̶ r̶e̶a̶l̶l̶y̶ m̶a̶k̶e̶s̶ m̶e̶ w̶a̶n̶t̶ t̶o̶ c̶l̶i̶m̶b̶ h̶i̶m̶

Oh, but then you also won yesterday as yoonminkook biased 😎 Yoongi with a puppy 🥺😭

ALSO DID YOU SEE WHAT PDOGG POSTED? Jimin is ending 2023 kpop??? AND WE ONLY GOT 2 TEASERS BUT I'D SAY HE ALREADY ENDED EVERYTHING?? I'm like kinda thankful the next thing we are getting (at least according to the schedule, I'm side eyeing bighit with the surprise drops because there is still a day tomorrow) is the actual mv because it'd be insane if I had to sit through another teaser and not have the actual song. And I'm SO excited to learn what SMF is about and his thought process and what kind of promotion he'll do and talk about his album and his experience and what he learned and maybe Joon will talk about the album too and i will just have so much Jimin content every day 🥺🥺 -🦋

under read more again lmaoo <3333

YESSSS the yt shorts version has stronger background vocalization. and yep yep it sounds like a high female opera like voice but its haunting dhjfhdj idk how to explain it. pls i feel like the song is really going to make me cry.. not just because of the lyrics that might be emotional but also because the intensity of the song might make me overwhelmed. it sounds soooooo energetic and aggressive rn im gonna be so overwhelmed when we finally get to hear the whole thing. AND YES. the dancers the formation the vibes i agree with everyone saying its giving fake love + black swan + on DGFHDJJFD. and the dancers have been posting stories of the teaser saying "the king is coming" and things like that i just think its gonna be fucking insane. omg yes if you find theories send them my way because i have 1 braincell which is all about jimin jimin jimin it is incapable for any other coherent thought <3 (and u did not hear me say this but the third paragraph in ur ask hahahahahahhahha same) OMG RIGHT i forgot they released the photoshoot sketch yesterday 😭😭😭😭 i only saw snippets of yoongi being an absolute goofball i am yet to watch the sketch but i will now after answering this <3 AND YES OFCOURSE I SAW IT. PDOGG. DO U UNDERSTAND WHAT IT MEANS WHEN A PRODUCER LIKE PDOGG SAYS SOMETHING LIKE THIS? JIMIN DID NOT COME TO PLAY. two teasers and he's already made everyone lose their goddamn minds imagine what'll happen when the actual song will release. and god i agree i literally cannot wait i don't need to be teased anymore give me the song already!!!!!!! im sure we'll get joon talking about the songs he participated in when he comes live next hehe i hope he does <3333 and yes please i need to hear jimin talk about it too. i hope he tells us about the inside stories and his thought process behind the album and the songs i would love nothing more than to hear him talk about his art 🥺🥺🥺💖

[cinnaminsvga]

#67 please and thank u kind miss zee <3

premise: “Someone just handed you a cat?” genre: roommate!au, humor || wc: 1K+ a/n: you didn't specify a member, so i hope it's fine that i chose yoongi for this (for reasons i am sure you understand) anyway this is so absurd i hope that's okay <5

The moment you entered your shared apartment with a nervous smile and an armful of blankets that definitely should not have been wriggling as much as it was supposed to, Yoongi knew that he was in for another batshit day. Or you know, just a regular Tuesday night.

"Please tell me that you aren't going to say what I think you're going to say," he starts, rubbing his temples with a weariness that would put war veterans to shame.

You pause, considering. "Well, I could maybe give you $5 if you can guess what I'm going to say."

Yoongi stares at the yellow-striped blanket in your arms which seems to have stopped moving, as if sensing his imposing gaze. "Please tell me that is not the cat from the 5th floor that you think you have a psychic connection with."

"Well, first of all, I don't like what you're implying! I definitely do have a connection with Mr. Sprinkles and we both think you're very rude!" you say, scowling. "And second of all, no, this is not Mr. Sprinkles. I know for a fact that he loves his sweet ol' Kitty Bitties very much and I would never do anything to separate soulmates—"

Yoongi wonders, not for the first time, if he should have read the fine print of your roommate advertisement before he'd unknowingly run headfirst into the worst decision of his life. Every word from your mouth feels like a hammer playing whack-a-mole with his braincells.

"Then tell me why on earth you have a fucking cat wrapped in a blanket burrito?"

"What makes you think it's a cat? What if it was a baby? Didn't think of that, did you?" you retort smugly.

Yoongi gawks at you, the urge to strangle you becoming unbearable. "Why are you saying that as if that's any better?! Do you actually think about what you say before speaking?"

You wave him off, ignoring his question. You brush past him and plopped yourself unceremoniously on the couch. Your rough jostling angers the mysterious bundle of fuzz in your arms, causing it to meow loudly in annoyance.

"Oops, sorry about that," you coo at the blanket, gently petting it as an apology. You turn back to Yoongi, smiling at him guilelessly. "So yeah, you were right, it's a cat. But it's not Mr. Sprinkles, so no $5 for you. I could settle for $2.50 if you're really bummed out about being wrong though. It was a valiant effort."

"Really? That's all you're going to say? You weren't going to run this by me before randomly adopting a cat? What about the roommate agreement?" he splutters, trying to make sense of it all. Which, for the most part, was a lost cause when it came to you.

You tsk, wagging a condescending finger at his face. "Wrong! The roommate agreement only says we need to discuss if one of us adopts a pet."

Yoongi gesticulates wildly to the pile of fur in your arms. "Is? That not? A fucking? Cat?"

You nod sagely, rubbing your chin. "Indeed. I am glad that we are in agreement on this."

Yoongi stares at you, shell-shocked. There have been many things in his short six months of living with you that have left him speechless. There were the alchemy experiments in the bathroom, the short-lived crystal buttplug small business venture, and even the haunted doll collection phase that you went through yet none of them have felt as insane as the conversation the two of you were having right now.

(Okay, that was an exaggeration. Yoongi still has nightmares from waking up at 3 AM with fucking Yo Gabba Gabba staring at him from across his bedroom.)

Noting his 100-yard stare, you decide to graciously offer a better explanation. "You see, I technically didn't break the agreement because I did not adopt this cat."

"What? So you're fostering it or something?" he asks, confused. "Why didn't you just start off with that?!"

"Well, no. I do own this cat," you explain. "Like, I've even named them Yoongi Junior in your honor!"

"What the fuck? You named me after a cat?" he hissed, like a cat. "That's the last straw."

You roll your eyes, tutting in exasperation. "Oh come on! Everyone knows you're a little cat boy. Hell, this cat looks exactly like you!"

There's no way in hell that this cat looks anything like him—

"Oh my god, it fucking looks like me," Yoongi says in awe.

When you unsheathe the cat from its soft blanket, Yoongi is shocked to find a tuxedo cat wearing a tiny black hoodie with the words "Lil Gangsta" written across its back with studs. Atop its head is a small grey beanie, almost identical to the one on top of Yoongi's own head.

"Holy shit," Yoongi mutters, his hand subconsciously going to pet his twin the cat of its own volition. "Holy shit," he repeats.

You smirk, self-satisfied. "I fucking knew you'd like him."

"T-that doesn't mean I'm okay with him staying! You needed to clear this with me before you adopted him! What if I was allergic or something?" Yoongi counters, but the fight in him has already left. The damned cat already has his cold, Grinch heart in a chokehold.

"You can't be allergic to your species, obviously," you scoff. "Besides, I already told you I didn't adopt him! Someone just handed it to me on the streets and no one said anything about getting free cats, right?"

Yoongi stops mid-pet, gaining a soft ireful meow from Yoongi Junior in response. "Wait, did you just say someone just handed you a cat?"

You shrug. "Yeah. What about it? It's pretty neat, huh?"

Yoongi steps away from you and the cat, his common sense returning to him. "Y/N, that's fucking shady as hell. What if this cat is chipped? What if they're tracking it and getting doxxing us as we speak? Holy shit, I knew this was going to be bad. We need to get rid of that cat, now!"

You and the cat pout back at him, hurt brimming in your equally doleful eyes. "Ouch, Yoongi. And here I thought we got something good going on..."

"The only thing 'going' here is that fucking cat," Yoongi humphs, grabbing the cat unceremoniously.

You stand up, chasing after him. "Wait! Where are you going?"

"I am going insane, that's where I'm going," he mutters, before turning back to face you. "Don't worry, Y/N. I'll bring him to the shelter. They'll probably know what to do with him better than we do, anyway."

"But... But..." you start, eyes already beginning to fill up with unshed tears.

Oh shit. Here it comes.

And just like every single time your insanity has caused Yoongi's quality of life to worsen, he finds himself melting under your gaze. Curse the soft piece of bread he calls his heart!

After what feels like an eternity, Yoongi sighs. "Fine. We'll keep him."

You cheer, whopping in celebration.

"But—"

You deflate immediately. "There's always a but and never enough butts..." you whine petulantly.

"But," Yoongi repeats, as if you had never said anything. "We still need to take him to the shelter and report him. If they find that there's nothing sketchy about him, and check if it's clean and healthy and whatever, then maybe..."

"Hell yes! You're the best, Yongo Bongo! I knew I could trust you, my beloved cat boy!" You say, jumping up to envelop him in a hug.

In response, he elbows you in the tit. He says he did it because he had a cat in his arms, but mostly it's because he doesn't do well with physical touch. You know, just cat boy things.

"You owe me, by the way," he grumbles as you both make your way to his car. You skip happily beside him, not missing the way his hands have not stopped caressing Yoongi Junior the whole while.

"Sure, sure. I'll transfer the $2.50 to you as soon as we get back."

"That really wasn't what I meant." He sighs, shaking his head in defeat. In his arms, Yoongi Junior meows happily, his eyes closed in contentment. Yoongi finds himself doing the same.

[secret-engima]

For the Character Ask Game:

Noctis Lucis Caelum

Regis Lycus Caelum

Nyx Ulric

(I hope you don't mind that it's more than one... but feel free to ignore 2/3 if it's too much LOL)

Hmmmm. sure why not.

one aspect about them i love:

Noctis: His kindness. Noctis has his flaws as a person, but one thing about him I love is that he is at heart, very very kind. While we the player never stop to think twice about the inane side quests we get, in universe it's amazing that a prince on the run and grieving takes time out of his day to just *help* his people. From things like helping farmers with their harvest and monster clearing (ie, important tasks), to searching the wilderness for lost dog tags so that some loved one will get closure. And in the end, he even offers words of kindness to the man who killed his father and fiance, blinded his brother, and covered the world in darkness.

Regis: Gosh that's hard to pick, since we don't see him nearly as much on screen and so much of his character is tied up with his death and his son's death. Probably- his love for his son? And also how he handles it. He is, throughout the story, first and foremost a Father caught in an impossible place. He is a king who must save his people, but the price for it will be his child. It would have been so *easy* for him to close himself off from his child and become hard and cold, not wanting to get more attached to a sacrificial lamb. It also would have been easy for him to try to lock his son away and screw the prophecy. Instead he does neither. He *loves* his son and gives him every scrap of happiness he can, while also teaching him and trying to prepare him for a role he does not want his son to fulfill. He sacrifices himself to save Noctis, not just because he's the key to the future, but because this is his son and Regis loves him. Even to the end, his love for his son is his shining motivation. It makes him hesitant to kill Noctis at the end, because what real father wants to harm his child? But in the end, it's also that love that drives the blade home, because he loves his son enough to trust him and to accept his choices, and in the end, it is Noctis's choice to fulfill the prophecy for the sake of his friends and world.

Nyx: Hmmmm, again, it's hard to choose when he gets overall so little screentime (main character status in the movie notwithstanding). Honestly, I'd say it would likely be his loyalty. In the movie we see how even his best friend turns against Regis, how Nyx has lost so much, how he *is* angry underneath it all because Galahd was his home and now his king has seemingly given up on it after so much. But he gave his word and he honors it. He gave his word to follow, to fight, and to trust, and he *does* and it's an admirable thing, for him to stick to his word like that even as his world starts to crumble around him for a second time.

one aspect i wish more people understood about them:

Noctis: He is NOT an emo. The amount of stupid comments I saw on youtube and other places about him being "sasuke" or "emo" or "insert x jerk character" back when his game first came out was hugely annoying. Because they all come from people who insist on being spoonfed every drop of character understanding they need and if they don't get it they tantrum over having to use their braincells. (pardon the salt). I also wish certain people didn't call him spoiled or selfish for his reactions post Luna's death. Being in shock and grief over yet another death on top of the ones he hasn't been allowed time and space to grieve for (because being on the run is no place for a breakdown) isn't spoiled or selfish. It's painfully human.

Regis: I'm not sure honestly how most people see Regis, most of the fics I've read of him handle him very well. I suppose I would want more people to understand how breathtakingly deeply he has to love his son, to have made the choices he did all with the gods and prophecy hanging over his head. How tightly he had to juggle responsibility with love for years.

Nyx: He's smarter than I've seen some people give him credit for. He's reckless yes, but that's honestly because he's very likely suffering depression under that smile. And most of his reckless behavior appears to be backed up by experience. I've seen some fics portray him as- loveable but stupid and that's wrong. He figured out how the Empire was tracking him and Luna within *moments* of them realizing that they were being followed. That takes brains.

one (or more) headcanon(s) i have about this character: I'm gonna shorten this to just Noctis HCs because honestly this is taking forever- Noctis has a hidden addiction to dark chocolate, the darker the better, because it has caffeine, but not so much that it will keep him from napping like coffee would.

one character i love seeing them interact with: Any of the Chocobros, but especially Prompto, because they have so much "youngest sibling" energy when together.

one character i wish they would interact with/interact with more: Luna. I would love for there to be a book or short story or *something* detailing some of the letters they exchanged with each other over the years as secret penpals. Or just give them a happy ending where they can be married and alive darnit.

one (or more) headcanon(s) i have that involve them and one other character: Noctis with his chronic pain tends to get very stiff in his back for understandable reasons. Ignis, overachiever that he is, decided one day when he was a teen that making Noctis suffer until his regular chiropractic session was a Problem and ended up getting lessons in massage. As Noctis got older, he got embarrassed to ask for them, but Ignis can always tell when he really needs one and is more than willing to gently bully Noctis into lying down so Ignis can smooth out some of the aches and pains.

[actualbird]

Now I really am back to reading your fics like a morning newspaper dgkdkg at this rate I should come up with a name for this fanfic paper....

Super Attorney dfjzhf is it Ace Attorney but a TV show? Honestly good taste mc.

Man, I really feel the not apologising thing. I mean, I apologise to friends and acquaintances of course but it's a family thing? I guess? I'm pretty sure this is a kind of common thing too. I'd probably have the same reaction as Giann if someone from my family actually apologised.

I love how Giann's first reaction when someone finds out something he doesn't want to is think Luke told them dgidig Luke will forever be thought of as a snitch now.

Giann nearly falling on his broken leg trying to see Neil right after admitting he hasn't been focusing on recovery is hilarious chkck he just went from not focusing to nearly actively fucking it up by accident poor Marius. First him leaving the room and going to the rooftop and now this.

NEIL XGJXGJCKG I CAN'T BELIEVE HE TRIED TO FAKE AMNESIA

Congratulations Neil you get to do shovel talks now! Start with Marius, he's right there and also it's his turn to get one now.

Looking at the end notes: Marbles von Hagen.....he'd be that marble that rolls away everytime you take them out of their bag or something. What troubles will he get into as a sphere....

And with that, that's the final chapter of this fic and my thoughts on it! As always, excellent chapter! This fic ended perfectly, and I'm definitely going to revisit it from time to time. Particularly when canon Giann and Neil come out, gotta see how similar they are to this fic. Thank you for writing this!!! It was a joy to read and I adored it so, so much.

🌌

waaaaahh, gmorning milkyway!! i hope u enjoyed today's morning paper written by zak who isnt telling you the news and is just making fic where characters get all emo and stuff, HAHA

JHSVKFJHSDK super attorney is a show mentioned in Artem SR Focus Fire. in terms of content, all we know is that it's a legal drama. but the Big Data Lab entry has this hilarious detail "It is supposedly inspired by real cases, but a certain anonymous critic has criticized the series as being overly dramatic and not reflective of reality." oh artem....KJHVFJAHSFJ

hoo boy yea the not apologizing thing was deffo inspired as a family thing. ive got 3 siblings and i love them very much and i'd consider all of us very close. but when any of us fight, we rarely apologize with like, the actual words. when it does happen tho, that when the situation is like Big

if im ranking the new team in terms of first impressions: luke honestly landed in last place due to sheer strangeness, giving giann a heartattack, and also snitching JHVSKJHDFKSDJ sorry dude

vjhKJHVKJH P MUCH, i just think itd be funny if giann didnt have a braincell sometimes, especially when it comes to people he cares about. it be like...

marius: i need u to recover so i can feel a bit more sane giann: okay i promise to focus on that :( //proceeds to nearly re-break his leg

neil wants to cause CHAOS. i assume part of why artem's deadpan expression these days is so good is because neil hume was his mentor and neil was a rascal

NEIL'S TURN TO SPEEDRUN!!! artem arrives at the room and neil is like "YOU OVERACHIEVER??? GO BIG OR GO HOME, HUH???" and artem is so confused

hjhJKHVKJHVKJ SPHERICAL NUISANCE!!! i figure thatd be austin and giann's rationale later on, but it did mostly start out from like "marius" -> "mar/marmar" -> "marbles"

when i pitched this hc on my priv twt, someone suggested "marmite" as a nickname and i lost my mind JHSJHFSKJDHF

thank YOU so so much for this lovely comment, milkyway :((( and for reading every chapter and commenting on each one, pls, every single one always made my morning and just made me rlly happy 🥺

now that this fic is over, it is time for me to look upon my horrid gdrive folder and see what ridiculous feels i will inflict upon you all next :DDD

[starfire-s]

here’s a list of the best, mediocre and worst kdramas i watched in 2020

no one asked for this but it’s happening because i have thoughts (also all opinions are my own if you disagree then get well soon i guess... no i’m kidding make your own posts about it don’t hate me please) ahsjsj anyways click to read a lengthy post and if you actually read the whole thing then thank you i hope you enjoy this wild ride! 

THE BEST KDRAMAS -

mystic pop up bar - this show had everything i ask from a kdrama literally i can name it all found family (to real family), well thought out characters, a mystery plot, special effects, soft romances that were well written, a happy ending! no show in 2020 even comes close to how good this one was! the writers literally guided you throughout the whole thing so you could come up with theories and didn’t do a ‘aha! gotcha’ thing where they want to prove the audience wrong but they wanted us to be right and satisfied! the worst part about the drama is that it’s still so underrated and people just brush it off as some random fantasy show but it’s so much more than that! 1000/10

flower of evil - who doesn’t want to see lee joon gi being the son of a serial killer, living with the name of a man who is in a coma, and hiding his real identity from his wife who is a detective? this show constantly had me at the edge of my seat on a weekly basis so the emotions i went through while watching this are unparalleled! the writers also did such a good job on writing a coherent story that made sense and tied up all the plot points in the end. just a really satisfying show to watch! 10/10

where your eyes linger - i literally bought a $8 viki pass to watch this show so it should tell you everything you need to know about how i feel ahsjsj the episodes were 10 minutes long but we got a good story with well written characters who got character development in a total of 80 minutes it’s insane! honestly it’s still hard to believe this show had rookie actors because they were just so emotive that you could feel all the happiness, sadness, yearning and pining! probably one of my fave kdramas this year because of the acting that i always constantly rewatch! would recommend 10/10

crash landing on you - okay so this drama was actually released on my birthday last year and it was a time in my life when i was going through a lot so maybe it’s the comfort this show provided me through that time this is why i have such a soft spot for it? like the romance was good, it was funny, there was found family, the nk soldiers were all softies, there were strong female leads, soft male leads!!! ahh!! no other show on this list made me think about the unification of south korea and north korea irl because i wanted se ri and jeong hyeok to be together 4ever! but the only issue i had with this show was the ending they gave seung jun if they didn’t do that i’d give this show a 10/10 but just for that they get a 9/10

psycho but it’s okay - this was one of those shows where you’re literally like ‘wow everyone here needs therapy’ but this show was amazing i loved the story telling and how each episode related to children’s book/fairytales! the writers also did a good job with how carefully they talked about mental health in depth without villainising their characters but actually tried to make the audience understand why they were this way which included all the side characters too who had a well thought out story in each episode! also the dynamic between moon young, kang tae and sang tae was everything to me the actors all did an amazing job portraying their characters, it truly was a healing drama. the only thing i didn’t like about this show was the whole plastic surgery plot with the mother like that was very far fetched but it provided drama so i’ll let it slide because the rest was amazing. this show is a solid 8.5/10

18 again - another underrated gem! who would’ve thought a remake of that zac efron movie could be this good!! lee do hyun stole this show for sure the way he portrayed his character and gave heart eyes to his kids (when he’s only 25 irl was the best thing i saw this year ahsjs) i loved the family dynamics in this show, i loved how it talked about what it’s like to be young parents and how society still think it’s taboo to be divorced! it’s a show that makes you laugh and cry at the same time and that’s why everyone should watch it! however, the biggest clown thing this show did to me though was that i got sls for the first time while watching a kdrama... hwang in yeop if u’re reading this i love u and u deserved better 🤡 that aside this show was a 8/10

itaewon class - i actually didn’t watch this drama as it was airing because i thought i wouldn’t enjoy the plot but when i watched it i binged the whole thing in 2 days and my biggest regret is i didn’t watch it sooner! everyone knows i have a soft spot for park seo joon since he’s my favourite actor i’ve literally watched all his dramas like he could star in the trashiest drama out there and i’d still watch it and be like wow (looking at she was pretty 👀) this show aside from the acting had one of the best revenge plots in a kdrama! just watching a character realistically hustle his way to reach the top while fighting the corrupt man whose son killed his father was so so satisfying to watch! however, the love triangle in this show was questionable idk what they were trying to do with that but it personally annoyed me! but still i’ll give this show a 7.5/10 because i enjoyed it a lot!

do you like brahms? - kim min jae and park eun bin.. that’s all you need to know about why this is a good kdrama! i’m usually not a big fan of melodramas and everyone knows i prefer rom coms but this show was just so perfectly melo that i loved all the angst and pain we got!! also just watching two introverted people awkwardly fall in love was amazing! the characters story arcs were also handled pretty well with song ah finally learning to speak up for herself and joon young learning to express how he truly feels! but... the love square? was probably the most annoying thing the rest in my opinion was nicely done! i know people had mixed feelings about the ending but i loved that after all the pain joon young and song ah went through they got a happy ending together! 7/10

find me in your memory - okay this show started off very slow and it was confusing at the start but as it progressed everything in the plot started to fall into place! i mean this show really took opposites attract to a new level where the male lead could remember every single detail from his life but the female lead had to forget some of her traumatic memories to help her cope with her life! they were also tied together through a mutual character who was a big part of their lives in a different way! just an interesting melodrama with interesting characters i liked it! and moon ga young... i love you queen!!! 7/10

THE MEDIOCRE KDRAMAS -

more than friends - was the storytelling in this show groundbreaking? no. was the acting decent? yes. also probably the main reason i stuck with this show until the end! i think we can all agree lee soo had the best character development on this show he started off as a bad boy who wore one ear stud to actually becoming a well liked character... who else did it like him? no one. also the chemistry between the mains was 🔥 but the second male lead was so annoying is there a opposite word for second lead syndrome because i had that for sure! i think the best part about this show was the people i watched it with on here... shoutout to the five of us ahsjsj also this show introduced me to a talented actor/singer like ong seong wu (y’all know my kpop knowledge is nonexistent so no i didn’t know he was in a band called wanna one) all in all a predictable show but i had fun watching it so 6.5/10

tale of the nine tailed - i didn’t actually watch this show i watched it through gifs and instagram posts ahsjsjs so am i qualified to talk about my opinion definitely no... will I talk about it anyways yes lmao. lee rang deserved better that’s all goodbye and take care. 5.5/10

start up - probably one of the most awaited opinions. y’all thought this would be in the worst kdramas section but i decided to give this show some rights. the show started off strong, lost it’s way after episode 6 and then the last episode gave me what i wanted so i have mixed feelings. the writing was not the best i think we can all agree, love triangle as a plot device? wow so groundbreaking 🤡 the characters on the other hand... i loved every single one of them i mean ship wars? i don’t know her. the show had a lot of potential that was wasted but we also got some cute moments between the characters so there was really no winning or losing with this show? but in all honesty you can’t put a talented cast together like this and then just decide to give the audience a mediocre plot but the writers did exactly that! i think i can redirect y’all to my ‘crimes this show committed’ post for a in-depth analysis. lastly nam do san was a GOOD and REFRESHING male lead and ji pyeong was also a GOOD and FUN second male lead!!! this show gave me the ugliest ship war ever that i was transported back to my high school tvd days so thank you for that!! but the cast was loveable and all had a lot of chemistry together so here’s a 5/10 maybe that's too generous but... i think the reason why i didn't enjoy watching this show as much was definitely because of the tag on here lmao

THE WORST KDRAMAS -

the king eternal monarch - i miss clowning this show so much. the amount of braincells i lost while trying to understand this plot... i should be compensated by the writers. however, woo do hwan was a treat to look at on a weekly basis... however the writers kept decreasing his screen time even though he had a dual role... make it make sense? and i cannot comment on the plot of this show because i still don’t understand anything? also in my opinion tae eul and lee gon were the most bland couple of 2020, there was no chemistry between them and there was just a random kiss in episode 5 and they randomly said i love you... where was the development? also lee gon was soooo boring and such a one dimensional male lead! literally all the side characters were so much more interesting and the cast was good... but this plot. 2/10

do do sol sol la la sol - i wanna fight the writer who decided that the plot twist on the show would be that jun is a minor? i had no expectations from this show but it looked cute and nonsensical but that plot twist made me run the other way so fast that i never looked back! just because jun is a boy they really thought this would be excused like lmao we all have critical thinking skills???? the clown behaviour. a solid 1/10

record of youth - i hate this show so much. imagine not utilising park so dam who just starred in the biggest oscar winning movie to her full potential. imagine just making her a love interest to park bo gum’s character in the year 2020. i watched it up until episode 6 and i kept waiting for her character to get development... but it never happened so i dropped this show. also this show featured the MOST useless love triangle i have ever seen in my life like what was the point? also park bo gum’s characters family was straight up annoying (minus the grandpa) but they got so much screen time like that should’ve been given to park so dam... also villainising a gay side character for no reason at all in the year 2020? this show was a waste of my time i want the 6 hours i spent watching this back. -100/10 

backstreet rookie - i watched one episode of this and literally wanted to rip my eyeballs out of my head. idk what ji chang wook was thinking when he signed this drama i think he lost his ability to read because that's the only reasonable explanation for why he chose to star in such a dumpster fire show! this show had a racist character... had a high schooler kiss an adult... sexist jokes... just the worst things you can think of in a drama... this show had it. i still can’t believe so many people watched this show to the point where it had better ratings than pbio... really made me question everyone’s taste? but sorry can’t relate my taste is excellent so here’s the rating this show actually deserves -1000/10

if you made it this far... thank you for reading. let’s continue to love some kdramas together and get clowned by others in 2021! looking forward to it 😅

[ficsilike-reblogged]

Sea Salt: Two

Summary: As a noblewoman from a small (and nefarious) kingdom in the Stepstones and quiet Lady-in-Waiting to Princess Elia Martell, she is accustomed to being looked through rather than looked at. The only exceptions to this rule are Prince Oberyn and Lord Willas Tyrell but they are often far from the dark shadows of the Red Keep or Dragonstone. She finds comfort in her quiet friendship with the princess and the delight of the darling royal children. But as Prince Rhaegar places a wreath of blue roses in the lap of Lady Lyanna Stark and rebellion starts to rage, she knows she will have to live up to her reputation. But luckily, she seems to have two allies lurking in the shadows.

Pairing(s): Willas Tyrell/F!Reader/Oberyn Martell/Ellaria Sand

Word Count: 24.6k (T_T)

Rating for this chapter: NC-17 for a bit of violence and mention of blood and warfare, my over-use of italics and using time jumps, and my love for ASOIAF lore. Ellaria is the only one in this relationship with a functioning braincell and reader is always happy to learn new things (ie: they have sex. they like it) If you have any questions about the lore or who is who or need clarifications, please just ask! I’m playing fast and loose with a bit of it, and a few ages, too. But I’m always happy to answer any questions you have! Thank you to everyone who was so kind about the first chapter and gave me ideas for this one. I love you. 

(Banner by my darling @starlight-starwrites) 

Chapter Two: Salt of the Sweat

Read Chapter One Here!

Or read this chapter on Ao3!

The quill was running dry as she finished the missive. A knock came at the door and her uncle Hammond walked in. “Are you ready?”

Y/N nodded and sealed the letter, knowing the ink would smear in her haste. She handed it off to a handmaiden to be sent as soon as they were aboard the small, unmarked ship, before bending down and gathering both Aegon and Jon into her arms with a now-practiced ease. The two babies each pushed out a hand to wrap their little fingers around the silver hanging beneath her collar, enjoying the warmth the delicate metal exuded. The sun charm glinted in the growing moonlight.

Hammond nodded, a bit sad, and kissed her forehead as he stepped to her side. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too.”

Prince Oberyn- The babes are growing strong. We depart Skilliga tonight. Thank you for the gold and for the necklace. I have sent Arthur and Dawn home with Ashara. Please be gentle with her, she is my last true friend aside from you and Willas. I do not know when I shall be able to write to you again, but I will try.

Ashara had arrived on the sharp rock shores of Skilliga only a few weeks after Arthur had come, holding a bag of gold from House Martell and a small box with a delicate silver necklace tucked inside—a long chain of braided silver and two charms hung at the bottom; a shark and a sun. It was beautiful, truly. Far more beautiful than anything Y/N had ever owned. Skilliga, for all its charms, did not favor pretty things. “Elia had the finest smith in Sunspear craft it for you—it was supposed to be your nameday present.” Her smile was sad. “She swore me to secrecy, you know. Wanted it to be a surprise.”

And the babies were fond of it, too. Their little hands always searched for it when she held them and she would dangle it above their cribs when they would fuss at night, letting the moonlight catch the polished silver. They seemed to like it.

My Prince- Rhaenys has taken to reading to the boys at night—I think she has memorized the story you sent. It hardly leaves her side. It was the book your mother read to you and Elia when you were younger, was it not? Filled with sparkling waters and talking turtles. She grows stronger and brighter every day. I know you would be proud of her. I know Elia would be, too. I miss her more than words can say. I try to tell Aegon and Elia all I know of her, and I tell Jon what I can of Lyanna, but I feel I am a poor replacement for their true mothers. I know you and Prince Doran are biding your time and I have taken your advice to not stay in one place for too long. But I do hope I am able to see you again soon.

She spent her lonely nights reading about the history she was not taught in Skilliga—of the flight of the Targaryens to Dragonstone before the Doom, of Garin the Great of the Rhoynar, of magic she did not know could be real. All of it. The world seemed so much smaller and larger now, somehow at the same time.

Her book snapped shut at the sound of one of the boys starting to cry in their bassinet. She rose from her cushioned chair and stepped toward their room, ready to help soothe him but was unsurprised when she saw Rhaenys leaning over Aegon’s crib, humming a little tune as she rubbed at her brother’s tummy, a move Elia was fond of when her children were fussy—Rhaenys must have seen Elia do it before…well, before. Aegon’s cries quickly quieted and Y/N smiled at Rhaenys who looked a little bashful as she turned and spotted her in the doorway.

“Would you like some honeyfingers, sunshine?”

Lord Willas- Lys was strange. But it kept Aegon safe—his silver hair did not look out of place here. But Rhaenys did. A man at the market spotted her—tried to steal her from my arms and screamed of how the Usurper would grant him gold and titles if he brought her back to Westeros. I lost my favorite dagger in his neck. We set sail in just a few moments.

Pentos had been next. And a handful of years passed in the shadows of a Pentoshi tower. The children still kept close to her, hiding behind her legs in the market when someone walked too close or looked too long. But they were growing each day.

Balerion, who was now very large and very mean to anyone he did not like, was the one constant in their lives, it seemed. He had grown even meaner since they had started to travel through Essos, purring contentedly only if in the laps of Rhaenys or her brothers—he would only grace Y/N with his presence when Rhaenys was busy with her studies and he knew not to disturb her and Jon and Aegon were involved with the tutors she managed to hire. He would curl up in her lap and she would have to remain very still if she did not want his razor sharp nails to puncture her breeches (again) in retaliation for being woken from his nap before he was fully rested.

But his fur was very soft and he made the little ones smile—she could take a few moments to breathe, nowhere to go, no one to meet, if it kept the cat happy. But today he was batting at the slip of parchment she was trying to read. It was from a Pentoshi Magistrate named Illyrio or something—Balerion had shredded the bottom—who was hoping to meet with her (and the children he had heard rumors of for ‘quite some time’) and promised more riches and more ‘protection.’ He had ulterior motives, she was sure, but she needed all the help she could find.

Balerion gave up on the shredded parchment and leapt from Y/N’s lap before stretching for a moment beside her feet. His big, fluffy head turned this way and that, as if looking for something. And then, as if on cue, Rhaenys darted out of the manse’s solar and scooped the cat up into her arms and placed a kiss on the top of his head. It earned her a rumbling purr in return.

“How would you feel about meeting someone for supper tonight, sunshine?”

My Prince- Congratulations on your newest daughter! An even eight—you must be so proud. The way you write of Ellaria is fit for songs. I know your daughters will flourish with your guiding hand. I will tell Rhaenys and Aegon of their new cousin, they are always happy to hear of their family. They miss you. I miss you.

The dinner had been just as dull and filled with lies and platitudes as any other meal they had shared with noblemen and dignitaries over the last handful of years in Essos. Illyrio was very self-assured and tried to tell Y/N that he wanted to see a Targaryen on the throne of Westeros again. “It is better for business, you see. This whole Rebellion has greatly affected my profits.”

“And that is all you care for? Profits?”

Illyrio’s smile was slimy but Y/N curled her fingers into the loose silk of her skirts to avoid reaching for the knife balanced on the edge of her plate. It would not do for her to threaten a(nother) host. “I would not be opposed to being raised to the Master of Coin when the rightful heir takes his place on the throne. It was nasty business what happened to that Dornish Princess.”

“Her name was Elia,” Y/N ground out.

“But I do suppose she served her purpose, bringing these beautiful children into the world.”

Y/N let go of her skirts and reached up to touch the knife. If he said another word, it was going into his eye and she would just steal everything she could hold. Perhaps that was a better plan than listening to him talk anyway. She glanced to her left to see Rhaenys looking down at her lap, little hands folded over her skirt. Hearing anything about her mother usually made her grow quiet and sad. Y/N, not even thinking of what it meant, moved her hand from the knife to cover Rhaenys’ hands. Providing comfort instead of violence.

(Mayhaps that could still come later.)

Rhaenys looked up at her and gave her a small smile, followed quickly by three squeezes to her fingers, a silent signal they had developed over the years to let the other know they were well.

“I swear it, your grace,” Illyrio said, staring at Aegon, another slimy smile on his face. “I will see you on your throne. You shall be king.”

“He is a child,” Y/N bit out. “Do not push him for something he cannot be sure he wants.” Aegon was barely speaking in full sentences that made sense, how could he know if he wanted some stupid crown? Just last night, Rhaenys had pulled her featherbed into her brothers’ rooms to sleep near them because they would not calm down until she was near them. He was a child. Born to royalty, yes, but a child still.

Illyrio laughed, a grating sound that had Rhaenys tightening her grip on her hand. “Of course, but you must teach him his responsibility. In secret, I know the highborn of Westeros are toasting to your survival, stitching dragons into their tapestries, and will come to your aid when you call for banners.”

That would have been a nice thought if anyone knew he was alive. Oberyn and Doran both had told her that most spoke of how they ‘knew’ Rhaenys and Aegon had been killed when the Lannisters sacked King’s Landing—and some others ‘knew’ that Lady Lyanna and her unborn babe had both died at the Tower of Joy before the end of the Rebellion. “I’ve been more preoccupied with keeping him breathing.”

“I don’t wan’ be king.”

Everyone turned to look at Aegon who seemed near tears.

“What, little one?” Y/N asked as she pulled him into her lap. His hand instantly grabbed at the necklace and he pressed his face into her shoulder.

“No king.” He sniffled and shook his head. “Rhaenee is king.”

The magistrate guffawed and Y/N once again looked at the knife. She could do it. “You will be king.” His smile did not falter. “But I do have gifts for you all.” Illyrio, unaware of how close he had come to death, waved a hand and a servant quickly came and placed a large chest on the table, rattling the cutlery and plates.

Jon startled in his little raised chair at her side but Rhaenys was immediately intrigued, even as she reached out to calm Jon with a gentle hand to his back. The lid opened and…

It was a…rock. A pretty rock, but a rock. It was a smoke color with ripples of orange and yellow. Illyrio waved a hand again, indicating she was allowed to grasp it, and she did as Aegon continued to press against her chest. It was heavier than she thought it would be and a little cold to the touch. Her eyes drifted to the small stack of gold also in the chest.

“What am I to do with this rock?” Y/N held the thing aloft with an arched eyebrow, holding back the sneer she felt growing. “Should I crack it open? Will it give me the ability to breathe life into my dearest friend’s lungs again? Will I be able to kill the usurper on the Iron Throne from across the Narrow Sea?”

“It is a dragon egg, my lady,” Illyrio said, enunciating each syllable as if that would help her understand. “Extremely valuable.”

Y/N turned and handed Rhaenys the egg, watching her little fingers curl around it immediately. She reached out and scooped out the gold and stood. The three children quickly did the same, little Aegon still in her arms and Rhaenys grabbing Jon from his chair. “I thank you for your time and meal, Magistrate. I shall think on your offer.”

Illyrio hurried to stand as well. “Yes, as their regent, I do value your opinion-”

But they were already turned away and walking out the door.

Lord Willas- I wish I could show you the gardens of Volantis. I am sure they pale in comparison to Highgarden, but they are lovely even if the people and customs are intolerable. The dried petals you hid in the folds of your last missive were a welcome surprise—a merchant woman insisted I have them turned into a perfume and it is a delightful scent. I can almost imagine the green grass and pink roses you have told me about so many times. I hope I will be able to see them soon. The air here is so heavy, it gets hard to breathe. Aegon and Jon do enjoy the elephants that the noblemen insist we ride everywhere. My sunshine likes to steer the large animal when the streets are clear, too. But please, tell me more of your home. Has your father filled the aviary with more hawks? Are the pups growing strong?

Y/N pulled the sword out of the back of the last man, listening to him gurgle on his own blood before he dropped to the worn wooden planks of the dock. Two more bodies were half submerged in the water a few paces back.

Volantis had turned on them, too. But the gold she had taken from the bodies of the would-be kidnappers (or assassins, she had not stopped to ask) would give them a little more cushion when they arrived in Lorath.

“Y/N?” Rhaenys called out from her hiding spot on the small ship docked just behind her. Her head appeared over the railing of the boat as Y/N wiped the blood off her sword onto her breeches before placing it back in its scabbard. “Did you get the pomegranates?”

Y/N turned and shuffled back a few steps to pick up the large bag she had dropped in the scuffle and held it up with a smile, ignoring how she could feel blood drying on her face. “I did, sunshine!”

Little Shark- Ellaria has been insistent that I introduce you as soon as we are able. I believe you would make dangerous friends. Lorath may not be the most exciting of places to hide, but I know you and the little ones will be safe. My family owes you a great debt. Doran has had to stop me from loading up my family and sailing to wherever you have landed. I have dreamt of you, little shark. I remember how you would smile and laugh. I remember how the scent of the sea seemed to be pressed into your skin. All of this has haunted me. You have haunted me.

Rhaenys was fond of just holding the silly little dragon egg and seemed to find a strange comfort by simply being near it, even as the years continued to trickle by and the stone egg was unchanged. “It feels warm, does it not?” She asked, holding out the egg toward Y/N.

But it did not feel warm to Y/N as she brushed her fingers against the strange orange ripples. It felt like cold rock. “Maybe I do not have the magic touch,” she said with a wink.

“Rhaenys!” They both turned at the shout of her name. Aegon and Jon, now seven and eight, rushed toward them. Little wooden swords clutched in their hands and their trousers covered in dirt. She had left them, only momentarily, to whack at each other in their garden.

Rhaenys was nearly bowled over by her brothers as they leapt at her and she tried to catch them, always protective. “What troubles you?” She asked as she managed to right them, batting away their swords as they absentmindedly still held them pointed up, ready to spar, while still holding onto her precious dragon egg.

“There is a strange man at the door.”

Ice went down Y/N’s spine and she hurried to push the children toward the back of the room, hiding them away in the back of the wardrobe. She handed Rhaenys a blade of her own, barely larger than the girl’s hand. “Remember what I taught you, sunshine?”

“Eyes, throat, thigh,” Rhaenys said, voice shaking just the slightest bit.

“Yes. And do not come out until I come for you.” She kissed each of them on the forehead and shut the door quietly, hoping against hope that it would not be the last time she would see them. But she steeled herself and patted at her breeches, feeling the four hidden blades there, and then the other four hidden in her tunic. She would fight. She would fight until her last breath.

Slowly but with her head held high, Y/N made her way toward the door and braced for the worst—a haggard Westerosi knight in search of gold and glory. A Braavosi bravo who wanted adventure across the Narrow Sea. A Sorrowful Man. A Faceless Man.

She peeked outside the window nearest the door and frowned. The man standing outside looked familiar and the longer she stared at him, the more she realized she knew him. A knight who had stuck to the Mad King’s side every time she had been forced to go to the Red Keep.

A Targaryen loyalist.

Maybe.

Slowly, she opened the door and stared at him. Willem Darry looked haggard—near death. He smelt like it, too.

“I have been searching for you,” he said, voice rough on her ears.

“What do you want, Darry?”

“I know that you have the little dragons.”

“You are mistaken.” Her hand started to inch toward the knife she had at her back. She could kill him. It could be quick and most people would not bat an eye at a bit of spilled blood. She needed to keep the children safe.

“I’m not. Queen Rhaella told me of a missive Elia wrote to her brother before the Sack of King’s Landing.”

Her hand curled around the hilt. “I know of no such letter.”

“I do not care of what you do or do not know. I am here because I need you. They need you.” He turned and called out for something—she did not care to listen. But the gate at the edge of her property opened and she felt her heart clench. Behind him stood little Viserys Targaryen and his sister, Daenerys.

Her grasp loosened. “Oh.”

My lady Y/N, Braavos sounds wondrous. I must admit that learning you have found two more dragons was a welcome surprise. It seems you collect them now. Prince Oberyn has been adamant that I visit the palace of Sunspear but I am afraid I will only embarrass myself further. The Usurper has started having a brood of his own. He grows more complacent by the day. Mayhaps I will be able to come to you someday soon. Your letters have become a most cherished treasure to me—even if my little sister Margaery does try to read them over my shoulder at every opportunity. I wish I could tell her about you, about how brave and beautiful you are. But I have promised Prince Oberyn to keep you a secret. And my secret you shall be.

Ser Willem Darry quickly moved Y/N and the children into his house. It was larger, equipped with better possible hiding places, and seemed to blend into the background of their particular road, hard to pick it out from its neighbors, aside from the red door. Darry made the servants aware that these four new faces were to be obeyed just as he was. He was a bear of a man, but gentle.

Rhaenys and Daenerys were thick as thieves, the older of the two quickly schooling the young girl in all things a good, highborn lady should know, and several more things a lady should not. More often than not, Y/N would find them practicing with bits of sharpened wood, stabbing the air with clumsy grips which Willem tried to rectify to the girls’ delights. Viserys had caught them once or twice and had snapped the bits of wood in two and dragged Daenerys away by the end of her silver braid until Y/N stepped in and made him practice his calligraphy until the sun set as punishment for making the girls cry. He was a terrible child, always holding his nose too high in the air and telling Aegon and Jon that he was king because his mother had crowned him at Dragonstone before she died.

“She only did that because she thought Aegon was dead or would be soon,” Rhaenys said, fire in her eyes.

“I don’t want to be king anyway!” Aegon would always shout from the next room over.

It was best to keep them separated.

My Prince- I am tired. And I must apologize for the tone of this letter. But Ser Willem is not long for this world, his stomach grows more troublesome for him by the day, and Viserys has been burning letters he will snatch from my hands, not allowing me to know their contents. Rhaenys, Aegon, and Jon are still flourishing in Braavos, however. They have asked that I send you this small wooden snake—and you know I am unable to tell them no when they ask so sweetly. Rhaenys has insisted that she read the books you have sent to her brothers and little Daenerys. I had to keep Viserys from stealing the book from her hands more than once. He is a terrible young man. If Aegon were not so attached to him, I might not be so protective of him. But I would not do anything which would bring a frown to Aegon’s face. He has also taken to dyeing his hair blue, to better blend with the Braavosi crowd, letting any passersby think he is just a Tyroshi boy. He is so smart, my prince. He and Rhaenys—and Jon, too, when he is not sulking—are growing to be true heirs to their throne. I hope you will be able to see them soon, just as I hope to meet your daughters and Ellaria. Lord Willas has told me that you are quite the doting father. I miss you.

Aegon and Jon grew stronger and more adventurous with each passing moon while Viserys did try to seem like his nephews’ company and would tell them stories of court life in Westeros, of how Rhaegar was a valiant knight, and how King Aerys was loved by the people.

Y/N had been quick to tell them the truth as she tucked them into bed each night but that did not stop the boys from wanting the older boy’s attention when Ser Willem was deemed ‘un-fun’ when he tired so quickly.

That sentiment quickly soured in their little mouths when Y/N had to explain that Willem had joined their mothers in the Seven Heavens and would not be…around anymore.

“Just say it, he’s dead,” Viserys commanded with an upturned lip.

“You might be crass, Viserys, but that does not mean I need be, too.”

“Why not? Your pathetic little kingdom would not stand under the might of the Seven Kingdoms. That is why you’ve run-”

“Will you braid my hair?” Daenerys’ soft voice cut the tension and Y/N happily turned to look at the youngest dragon.

“Of course, Dany. Go grab your brush.”

“I have a ribbon you can use,” Rhaenys said with a small smile. She reached out a hand toward the younger girl who happily took it.

As Daenerys scurried away, Viserys shot Y/N another glare before marching off. Jon had been watching the entire exchange with his usual pout and Aegon was looking between Y/N and the door where Viserys had disappeared as he fiddled with the pommel of his practice sword.

“I do not understand his dislike of you,” Aegon said.

“He doesn’t like that he is second best,” Jon said. “Or third.”

Y/N snorted and shook her head. “Have you two finished your Valyrian lines?”

Aegon and Jon looked at each other and then darted from the room without a look back, as Y/N knew they would. Daenerys came back in with a smile, her brush, and the bit of ribbon Rhaenys had leant her in her hands. Y/N sat behind Daenerys and carefully brushed her hair. Daenerys seemed to preen under the touch, much like Rhaenys did when she was her age, happy to feel friendly fingers taking care with her hair. She plaited it and tied it off with the purple ribbon, knowing it would probably be a mess by the time dinner was served.

“You will not leave us. Not like Ser Willem, right?” The little princess asked as she turned to look up at her.

Y/N pressed a smile to her face and bit back the words she felt bubbling at the back of her throat. How could she tell a heartbroken little girl that she could not decide when she left this world? She traced a finger down Daenerys’ cheek before gently cupping her chin in her hand. “I promise I will be at your side for as long as I am able, princess.”

Daenerys paused, violet eyes searching her face for answers before nodding. “What are we having for supper?”

My Prince- Thank you for the wonderful gifts for Rhaenys’ ten-and-four nameday. I cannot believe she is almost a woman grown. I cannot believe it has been so long since I have seen you, so long since my flight from Dragonstone. How fares little Dorea? Has she recovered from her sickness? And what of Sarella? Is she still masquerading in the Citadel? She truly is your daughter. Please give Ellaria my love and I will give Aegon, Jon, and Rhaenys yours.

It had been quite a few years since she had heard Rhaenys wake herself up in a fit. Y/N quietly padded over to her room and let herself in, seeing the princess sit in a mess of blankets, a hand on her chest, obviously trying to slow her racing heart. Y/N stepped inside as Rhaenys spotted her sat on the edge of the bed and smiled as Rhaenys quickly swirled around on the blankets to place her head on Y/N’s lap. Her fingers reached up and tangled with her necklace, thumb brushing against the sun pendant as she had done hundreds of times before.

“What troubles you, sunshine? Let me help you.” She curled her hands over Rhaenys’ shoulders and side, cradling her just a bit—like she did when she was a small child. “The nightmares have come back.” She did not look up at her, only keeping her focus on the metal sun.

“Tell me what you see.”

Rhaenys sighed. “You’ll think me foolish.”

“Never.”

“There are ice dragons—bigger than castles, bigger than mountains. They come from the cold and have riders made of snow on their backs and swords made of ice, too.” She shivered and her hand dropped from Y/N’s necklace and she curled further into Y/N’s grasp. “The dead walk with them.”

“The dead?” Y/N asked, her face scrunching in confusion.

“They follow them, mindlessly. Like they have no control.”

Y/N pulled Rhaenys a little closer, feeling something cold trace its finger down her spine. “You’ve been dreaming of the cold since you were a child.”

Rhaenys was quiet for a moment before finally looking up at her. “I don’t think they’re dreams.”

And that gave Y/N pause. She had read about Daenys the Dreamer who saved her family from the Doom. She had read how the priests and priestesses of the Mother Rhoyne were gifted with visions of things not yet come to pass. “You have been seeing this since you were a babe, sunshine. Tell me. Tell me what you think it is.”

Rhaenys was quiet for a moment before sighing. “I’ve read the book of legends Uncle Oberyn has sent. Of the Rhoynar, of my mother’s people. It said that some were gifted with something called the Sight. The ability to see things as they happen from across the world, or things not yet come to pass.”

“Like the Dragon Dreams of the Valyrians.”

Rhaenys nodded and finally dropped her hold on the necklace.

“And you think that this cold, these beings, are coming?”

“I know it sounds like nonsense-”

“Almost every country in this world has legends of a night which lasted generations, of cold which reached across the seas. And history repeats itself, my sunshine. It is possible that you have always had the Sight. Do not discount yourself.”

Rhaenys looked up at her, dark eyes shining in the moonlight. “Then I am seeing what is to come?”

Y/N pulled her a little closer. “It is possible. But magic has been gone from the world a long time.”

“But if the cold can come again, magic can as well.”

Y/N nodded. “And I shall be here with you if it does.”

“My father,” Rhaenys grumbled the title, “was fond of prophecy, was he not? The Targaryens always said ‘the Dragon has three heads’ or something like that.”

“Why can there not be four?” She sighed. “Or five. Would not more be better? Surely there is still strength in numbers. And we shall need all the strength we can muster.”

Rhaenys opened her mouth to say something when the door burst open. On instinct, Y/N grabbed the knife she’d hidden in her sleeve and hurled it at the intruder. It missed Jon’s head by pure luck. He only glanced at the blade once before turning back to them. “Something’s happened.”

Y/N stood from the bed with Rhaenys at her side and they ran through the manse, following Jon’s steps but their haste did not change the outcome. Viserys and Daenerys were gone.

Lady Y/N- Thank you for the information you have discovered about from the Iron Bank. It is most welcome and has helped us continue to truly know how poorly and precariously the Usurper is sitting on his stolen throne. If you discover anything else, I would be grateful. Please give the young ones my love. -Prince Doran, Lord of Sunspear

“Again,” Y/N said, standing on the edge of the stone platform.

Aegon and Jon both groaned but Rhaenys held up her sword, ready for the next drill to be called out.

They had been training since the sun came up. While the breeze off the water kept them cool, sweat still poured down their necks to wet their tunics. It was a familiar sight—Y/N could remember her own time in Skilliga’s training rooms when she was younger than them.

It felt like ages ago.

She called out the next set of drills and watched as they worked through the steps, each with a bit of room for improvement, but not entirely terrible. As they worked through another set, and then another, Y/N reached for her own wooden sword and leapt up onto the platform as they caught their breath. Perhaps it was time for only one more exercise.

“If you each manage to land a blow, we can call it for the day, hm? I’ll even have honeywine brought in.”

The siblings looked at each other, a silent conversation, before they all turned like a three-headed beast and raised their swords and charged.

When it was all finished—Y/N had only two more sore spots on her arms but she still had honeywine and let them drink the entire bottle themselves. They had earned it. The manse grew quiet after their small celebration and Y/N sat in her room and listened to the sea beat against the city’s walls as she ran a cool, damp cloth across her face, trying to wash the day’s dirt and sweat away. It was strange, to know that she did not need to make sure that the three did not require a story to help them sleep. They hadn’t in several years. But she still found herself wanting to rise from her cushioned seat to check on them as the air grew still and soft.

A knock at her opened door had her turning and Rhaenys was walking into her room with her lips pulled tight. “Dany is alive.”

“How do you know this?” Y/N asked, rising from her seat. For almost a year, she had heard nothing of the two lost dragons. She knew someone had seen them, she had always known when someone was keeping a secret. But they never told. Again and again, she had thought she would learn of their deaths from a sneering nobleman or one of her missives from Westeros. But she had heard nothing.

“I’ve seen it. I’ve dreamt it.”

My Y/N, Thank you for the lace and silk. You are a generous soul; I had been searching for the right materials for my Obella’s nameday dress and your package arrived the next day. Oberyn speaks of you often, of little Aegon and Rhaenys, and Jon too. I hope to meet you soon, to finally know your face as I know your name. To know you.

It was two years later that she finally heard of where the two silver-headed dragons had gone.

The Dothraki Sea.

“Why would they go there?” Rhaenys asked with a frown.

“Viserys probably hatched some plan. Brokered a deal he did not fully understand with a man smarter than him.”

“A horse is smarter than him,” Aegon muttered. Rhaenys slapped his arm but Jon roared with laughter.

“Well, we must go to them. To Daenerys, at least,” Rhaenys said as she stood from her seat.

And that was how Y/N found herself selling most of their earthly possessions and setting out away from Braavos with an honest guide whom she trusted and paid well. (Balerion hated the wheelhouse but preferred it to being sat on Rhaenys’ lap on her horse. He curled himself around the petrified dragon egg and mostly slept through the day.)

From Braavos to Norvos and then down the banks of the Noyne to where it met the Rhoyne, the days trickled by.

For only a few hours, she let the three bask in the beauty of the ruins of Ny Sar—of the city Nymeria, their famed ancestor, had once called home—before they continued on. They could not afford to linger.

But she grew more and more fatigued with each passing day.

“What ails you?” Rhaenys asked as they stopped for the night.

“I never sleep well this far from the sea, sunshine.” She pressed a smile to her face and tugged at the silver lock of hair at Rhaenys’ nape. “I will rest when we find Daenerys and I can hear the waves crash against the shore again.”

But she asked again a few nights later as they settled again to make their small camp, quiet and hidden. They were too far south for the Pirates of Dagger Lake and too far north for the Volantene galleys to spot them, but it was still best to be cautious. Even in Skilliga, Y/N knew of the dangers of the Sorrows. And Y/N gave her answer. “We are too close to the Sorrows for me to sleep soundly, sunshine.”

They both settled on the high hill at the edge of the grasslands where it met the sparse forest, and watched the cursed fog slowly roll over the unseen waters she could only barely hear. It was strangely quiet here, in this desolate part of the world.

“This is where the Rhoynar made their last stand—before Nymeria and her ten thousand ships set sail and landed in Dorne.”

“Yes. Centuries ago, Chroyane, this was a proud and fertile land. Filled with celebrations and water magic. A place of laughter and prosperity.”

Rhaenys sighed as she looked out at the curling grey mist and barren trees. “But not now.”

“Before the Doom, when the Valyrians still ruled Essos, they tried to conquer the Rhoynar. Wars raged and, for a handful of years, the Rhoynar were able to hold the dragons off. But that did not last. In a last attempt to make the dragons rue the day they set their purple eyes on this part of the Rhoyne, Garin the Great called down a curse on the Valyrians after being captured.”

“And the waters rose and the fog rolled in, sweeping them beneath and holding them there beneath the waves for all the ages to come. The fog turned their skin to stone, matching their stone hearts and took their minds, too.” Rhaenys nodded. “I remembered that part. Mother would tell me stories of the Rhoynar when father was too busy wish his prophecies to sing me to sleep.” The young girl at her side heaved a heavy sigh as she watched the mist curl across the water. “This is my mother’s bloodline. Snuffed out by my father’s.”

Y/N huffed and knocked her shoulder against Rhaenys’. “You are not your parents. You are not some bit of rock that maesters scribble about in their chambers. You, my sunshine, are both Martell and Targaryen. You are the Sun and a Dragon. The fact that you are here means that the impossible is possible. You are water magic and fire in skin. You are the rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. You are your mother’s daughter—her sunshine, my sunshine.”

Rhaenys was quiet for a moment before she nodded and stood, sweeping her hands against her trousers to brush the dead grass from the fabric. Y/N expected her to say that she was retiring again for the night. But Rhaenys always kept Y/N on her toes.

She was suddenly sprinting down the hill toward the water and the cursed fog.

“Rhaenys?! What are you doing?”

Rhaenys would succumb to the curse, to greyscale—what was she doing?! Y/N sprinted down after her, pumping her legs faster and faster to try to catch her—but she was again too late. And she screamed as Aegon darted in after his sister.

But the fog did not engulf Rhaenys’ form. It did not choke the air from her young lungs. Instead, it curled around her ankles like Balerion had done so many times as a kitten. It was welcoming her. Welcoming her home.

For a moment, Y/N could only watch as the unnatural fog almost seemed to sparkle and shine as Rhaenys reached out her hands toward it. She knew Aegon was yelling, saying something to Rhaenys. But she couldn’t hear it. And she doubted Rhaenys could either as the fog closed around the pair.

She could only wait, with a panicked Jon at her side and a strangely calm Balerion in her arms.

“All will be well,” Y/N heard herself saying.

“Are you certain?” Jon asked in return.

“Yes. Yes, I am.”

And when the sun rose in the morning, for the first time in hundreds of years, it shone on Chroyane. The fog lifted. She could see the broken yet still beautiful arches and marble columns of towering stone. Grand palaces jutting from the sparkling waters. Overgrown trees, once foreboding and covered in grey moss, had shining green leaves as large as her arm with delicate pink flowers blossoming. And it was beautiful—even with the bodies of the stone men piled, almost neatly, on the banks of the river. Finally at rest.

Y/N turned her head at the sound of splashing and saw one of the famed large turtles the Rhoyne was known for, sliding through the water, content.

In the center of the river, the water slowly moving by, stood Rhaenys and Aegon.

Jon sprinted to his siblings’ side. “What happened? What did you see?”

Rhaenys only smiled.

**

The siblings had insisted that they take a handful of days to explore the newly ‘recovered’ city. And Y/N could not tell them no—both out of familial duty and personal curiosity. While Aegon and Rhaenys traipsed through the ruins as if they had been there thousands of times before, showing Jon everything they could and telling him of the Rhoynish history, Y/N explored on her own.

The ancient scars of the last battle against the Valyrians were still seen, now dulled by the constant presence of the river water but she could see bits of armor beneath ivy and trees, sun-bleached bone where the water was shallow.

But the river was clear and cool and Y/N let it soak her breeches as she jumped from the small skiff she had found so she could look through the ruins of what appeared to be an ornate bathhouse. Mud and damp greenery sloshed underneath her boots as she walked through, trying to envision what this place looked like before the war and curse. But even now, it was beautiful.

Something clanged against her boot and she looked down to see an edge of a sword. Y/N frowned as she pulled the sword from the muck and wiped it clean on her already-disgusting trousers. The pommel had a head of lion and was inlaid with fine rubies and gold. The blade was long—too long to be wielded by one hand as she had trained to do—but it was far too light to be common steel. Y/N held up the blade to let it reflect the sun and saw the swirling patterns as her heart leapt into her throat.

This was Valyrian steel.

She spent the next handful of hours combing through the mounds of debris on the edges of the river, making sure to listen for where her three charges were and to know that they were safe, and collecting any bits of Valyrian steel—armor or weapons—she could find. And if she had to shake a few bones loose from it? That did not matter. This was not supposed to be the resting place of the dragonriders. This was not their land. So, she supposed that the Valyrians’ former belongings were free game.

They would catch a fine price anyway.

Balerion was perched on a moss-covered rock, watching another large turtle and probably mulling over if the creature was friend, foe, or food.

But Rhaenys eventually pulled her brothers from the ruins and said it was time to move on—“we will come back. I’m sure of it.” And no one argued with her on that, or asked how she knew. They all knew to simply trust her.

The wetlands of the Rhoyne gave way to the grass of the Dothraki Sea and their guide promised that he knew the fastest way to Vaes Dothrak, the one true Dothraki settlement where Daenerys had last been seen. And his promises were kept, thankfully. Y/N was sure if anything else had caught her off guard, she would have fallen off her horse and never risen again. She was so far from the sea. She could hear no river or ocean. No water.

The heat was nearly unbearable. She had nearly thrown herself from the saddle when the seventy-sixth bead of sweat trailed its way down her neck to pool in the back of her tunic. But Rhaenys remained ever positive.

“We are nearly there, I can feel it.”

Even when they learned that Daenerys and what was left of her husband’s khalasar had left Vaes Dothrak and started toward Lhazar, she still voiced her positive outlook.

And it paid off. As Y/N knew it would—eventually.

As the sun set on the fourth day after leaving Vaes Dothrak, they spotted the remnants of a khalasar surrounding what looked like a giant funeral pyre as a red comet bled across the dark night sky. Y/N slowed her horse to a stop and dismounted as she squinted toward the group, trying to find Daenerys. The silver hair quickly stood out and she felt her heart lift, unweighted for the first time since they had left the Chroyane. But it suddenly tumbled down to her stomach as she watched Daenerys light the fire and then edged closer to the heat.

“Daenerys? Dany!”

But the girl did not hear her. Did not turn. Did not blink as she stepped into the flames.

Y/N ran toward the fire but was held back by a strange man—Y/N barely registered that he was not Dothraki—who muttered something about not needing more death tonight.

Sudden movement at her side had Y/N turning and she could not stomach the cry that ripped its way from her throat.

“Rhaenys? What are you—Rhaenys!” She screamed and screamed and leapt toward her only to be too late—again—to stop the carnage. That was her curse.

Rhaenys stepped into the funeral pyre, the egg she had treasured for years held out in front of her like an offering.

Aegon and Jon were screaming for her, for Dany, to come out—come out of the flames and we can go home! We can go home!

But the pair of girls did not. They did not emerge from the flames. Around the large funeral pyre, the remnants of the Dothraki khalasar moved to their knees, watching at the fire burned higher and hotter. And all Y/N could do was watch.

She had failed. She had failed and she didn’t know why. Why did the girls walk into the fire, so sure of their fates? Why did they welcome it with open arms? Why? Y/N sank to her knees and wept. She cried for the first time since Arthur had died at her feet, wept even as the heat from the pyre drenched her in sweat. She had failed.

By the time the sun rose and smoke dissipated, she was certain she would be staring at the bodies of her two girls and once again facing immeasurable loss and now having to handle her boys’ own anger and sadness.

But then she felt her heart leap into her throat.

Surrounded by ash and soot, were Daenerys and Rhaenys. Unharmed. Unburnt. Alive.

And four baby dragons.

“Oh.”

The remaining onlookers yelled out something in their language, hands raised toward Rhaenys and Daenerys.

Blood of their blood.

Y/N, Aegon, and Jon stepped over the piles of ash and still burning embers and toward the two women, naked, and covered in soot—but smiling. Y/N pulled off her overtunic and wrapped it around Rhaenys’ shoulders as Aegon draped his cloak around Daenerys.

“I saw you come again.” Daenerys reached out and grasped at Rhaenys’ hands and the young women cried. “I saw you.”

“I saw you, too,” Rhaenys whispered before shaking her hands free of Daenerys’ grip only to wrap her arms around her aunt in a tight embrace. “How could he hurt you so? You did not deserve to be treated like that.”

Y/N watched Daenerys’ brows furrow over Rhaenys’ shoulder. “What did you see?”

But the answer would have to wait as Aegon and Jon, tired of waiting, all but threw themselves at the pair, and berated them for their actions but thanked them both for surviving.

“I don’t know what we would do without you,” Aegon murmured.

Y/N sighed as she watched them, watched the small group cry and laugh and smile. Aegon did not know how true that statement was—and she hoped he would never know what the world would be like without his sister and aunt.

Rhaenys stepped away from her brother from a moment and held out a soot-covered hand toward her, urging her forward. And Y/N quickly took it, not minding the strange heat. The yellow and gold dragon hatchling on Rhaenys’ shoulder chirped as Y/N stepped closer. Its little neck craned as she kissed Rhaenys’ forehead, trying to see what Y/N was doing to their mother.

“Never do that again, my sunshine.”

**

There had been a bit of an argument between Daenerys and her guard—Jorah Mormont, Y/N had learned what his name was—and Rhaenys and her brothers as to where they would go next. They could not stay in the Dothraki Sea. The other khalasars were still a threat.

Jorah suggested Asshai-by-the-shadow.

Their guide suggested traveling back to Norvos—and when that was turned down, he took his payment and left. “You will die out here,” was all he said. Charming.

But Daenerys, watching the red comet still bleed across the crystal-blue sky had a different destination in mind. “What is that way?” She asked, finger pointing toward where the comet was flying.

“Qarth, khaleesi. The Queen of cities.”

Daenerys smiled at the sound of it. “We shall go to Qarth.” She turned and looked at Rhaenys who nodded, both of them unperturbed by the dragons using their limbs like a crib. Aegon and Jon were both looking at the pair of young women with awe and almost-smug knowing on their faces. Like they had predicted this very sight. And mayhaps they did.

Magic had come back into the world. With water and fog and fire and dragons.

It had come back.

**

My dear Willas- I am not sure if Qarth is to my taste. I do not like how these merchants ‘princes’ and warlocks stare at my charges and their dragons. I do not like how they lathe attention and treasures on the children…young adults, I suppose. I know that these people, man, woman, whomever, they only mean to get their hands on the dragons. And Balerion truly poses more of a threat than the dragons do—and the cat is getting old, he is still something to behold, but his paws move slower now. The hatchlings are defenseless little things even if they are starting to learn how to breathe fire. But I suppose the comforts of this famed city are better than the alternative of getting lost in the Red Waste. But still…I could hear the whispers and feel the people of Qarth all around us. Even our host, Xaro Xhoan Daxos, who had been the first to welcome us into the walled city and has given us an entire wing to call home in his immense estate—I cannot trust him. There is a Shadowbinder here who seems to appear at all hours of the night and day, speaking in whispers and vague prophecy. Truthfully, if she spoke plainly I might actually like her. But enough of that! What news do you have from Westeros? The new set of hounds—are they still growing strong?

For now, in this strange city, they were comfortable. She could hear the four laugh and see them smile. Daenerys told them of her time at Viserys’ side, told them of how her brother had told her that Y/N and Rhaenys, Aegon, and Jon no longer wanted the pair at their side. She told them of how they had become wards of Illyrio Mopatis who had promised to help them retake the Seven Kingdoms—a familiar promise. He had brokered a deal with Khal Drogo, all but selling Daenerys to the khal in exchange for the large khalasar who was supposed to help Viserys reclaim the Iron Throne. It churned her stomach, it hurt her heart. “You know that you are family,” Y/N had said. “You are always welcome, always loved.” And that gave rise to the question: did any of them actually want the Iron Throne?

And the answer, unsurprisingly, was complicated.

Aegon and Jon wanted to stop running. Daenerys wanted a place to call home, truly. And Rhaenys, her sunshine, revealed her steel core. Rhaenys was quiet for a moment before she stood and set her shoulders back. “Westeros will be mine. It will be mine as it should have been my father’s. As it should have belonged to my mother. The usurper and the lions stole it from her and I will wash them from this earth. I want it. The Seven Kingdoms belong to me—and I will have them.”

Y/N nodded. “You will, sunshine. I promise you that. You are the eldest. By Dornish right and custom, it belongs to you.” Y/N reached out and curled her finger around the silver strand at her ear, and she was suddenly so aware that Rhaenys was growing up. She looked so much like Elia. Where had the time gone? Her hand dropped back to her side. “You will be queen.”

“Y/N!”

She turned at sound of her name and saw Rhaenys walking toward her, draped in a silken Qartheen dress, and her little yellow dragon in her arms. She had named her Vēzos—it meant Sun in High Valyrian. She knew what Rhaenys meant when she had named her dragon. Elia was the Sun of Dorne. Rhaenys had been her sunshine. And now Rhaenys had a sun of her own. Beautiful and terrible and all hers. Y/N could not be more proud. “You are up early, my sunshine. Your brothers and aunt are still resting like the dead.” Last night a grand reception had been held by their host, filling his gardens with all the elite of the city. The Pureborn, the Thirteen, Warlocks—all of them, had descended on the lush grounds and had their fill of fine wood and drink while whispering about the ‘uncivilized’ Dothraki and stealing glances at the dragons while trying to make conversation with the four guests of honor.

It had been exhausting. Most of the party had been spent with Ser Jorah, trying to keep the Dothraki from pilfering anything worth value or Balerion from destorying the guests' fine dresses. Truthfully, Y/N wouldn’t’ve cared but Daenerys said it would not be kind to their host. Oh well.

“They drank much more than me,” Rhaenys said with a smile. Y/N patted the cushioned seat next to her but Rhaenys shook her head. “I have something to show you.”

Y/N arched an eyebrow but stood and followed Rhaenys out of Xaro’s manse, grabbing one of her swords on the way out and sliding it into the belt at her waist. The city was still sleeping and strangely quiet—quiet enough that Y/N could hear the ocean. The port of Qarth was one of the great ports of the known world and Y/N had grown up hearing of the treasure her parents had once plundered from the Jade Gates—it had been the trip they had taken just after they were married. Strangely romantic. The port was a little busier than the quiet of the city and Y/N stepped closer to Rhaenys as they neared the unfamiliar crowd. But, Rhaenys paid no one any mind until she spotted a man with a plumed hat who bowed when she stepped toward him.

“Right on time, Princess! Are you ready?”

Y/N had barely any time to ask what was going on before Rhaenys took her by the hand and ushered her onto the Swan Ship and it pulled away from the port. “Are you kidnapping me, sunshine?” She asked with a laugh.

“Only for a few hours.”

The ship made quick work of sailing through the Jade Gates and toward the East of Essos. And while the sun grew higher in the sky, Rhaenys steadfastly evaded any questions Y/N posed about their destination and she only grew more confused when the ship slowly stopped, rocking in time with the quiet waves—no land in sight.

And Rhaenys’ smile only widened. “Welcome to the Jade Sea.”

Y/N had to laugh and little Vēzos chirped at the noise. “Oh, sunshine. You never fail to surprise me.”

“My ladies!” The captain called out from behind the helm. “We only have a few moments before the Qartheen galleys stop us for taxes—I recommend you make the most of it.”

And that was how Y/N found herself diving off the side of the ship into the cool waters, uncaring that she had left her only weapon on the deck of the boat. Rhaenys was next to her, the folds of her dress floating around her like a sparkling sea creature. And little Vēzos, still unable to fly just yet, had taken to the water too, strangely enough. She flitted around the pair, yellow wings keeping her afloat.

This was paradise.

**

Oberyn- I cannot believe little Dorea has celebrated another nameday. It feels like yesterday you have told me of her coming into this world. Did she like the little jade sun we sent? Aegon had it commissioned at the market here in Qarth. The deal between the Pureborn and our little band of Dothraki and displaced regents is nearly solidified. We will have nearly twenty galleys with the small mountain of Valyrian steel we had reclaimed from the Rhoyne. (I, of course, have hidden several bits of armor and the lion-headed sword, and a few other weapons I had found, outside the city. Just in case. I am saving a spearhead I have found for you. I do hope you like it.) But it does seem like the deal is taking longer than I had ever anticipated. Or perhaps I should have anticipated it—the Pureborn, the warlocks, no one wants Valyrian steel. Not when dragons have come again. For now, everyone is safe. Thriving. I know you weren’t particularly keen on any of the names chosen for the hatchlings but I am still mostly unable to tell them no when they ask so sweetly. Drogon does seem to be the largest still, followed by Vēzos, then Aegon’s Viserion, and Jon’s little Rhaegal is still…little. Mayhaps that is a cosmic joke. But you should see them when they are all together. There is something magical there, powerful. The sun shines brightly on all of them. I am so proud. Please give Ellaria my love.

On the end of the fourth moon of their time in the city, the woman in the lacquered mask, the Shadowbinder Quaithe who still did not speak plainly no matter how much they insisted, appeared again in their rooms.

“You have not left the city, dragonriders.”

Y/N drew her sword but the masked woman did not flinch.

“What do you want?” Aegon asked.

“I have told you. You did not listen. Soon, you will not be permitted to leave the city. You all must learn the truth. And you must-”

“Pass beneath the Shadow,” Jon finished, obviously having heard the request before. “There is nothing for us in Asshai. Truth or otherwise.”

“You will learn.” The woman paused. “Do not trust the whisper.” And then she vanished, as if conjured by shadows herself and the door to their chambers burst open and the small khalasar filled in, shouting something in their language Y/N was still learning—but she caught “dragons” and “gone.” And that was all she needed. And her four charges all let out screams of anguish, as if they had lost limbs with the news. Perhaps that is what it felt like.

They all poured out of their temporary home and into the garden, past the dead bodies of a handful of Daenerys’ handmaidens, to see Pyat Pree and Xaro waiting for them. Y/N would not be able to recall anything they said, only the gist.

The other warlocks had stolen the dragons, seeking power. Xaro and Pyat Pree would lead the four (Aegon, Jon, Rhaenys, and Daenerys) to the House of the Undying, the warlocks’ seat of power in Qarth, where they were holding the hatchlings. In exchange, the two wanted Daenerys and her khalasar to help them establish a ‘new order’ in Qarth. They wanted to be kings.

In short, Daenerys agreed. She wanted nothing more than the hatchlings back and her niece and nephews happy again. But there were, of course, conditions. Only the four could go.

“This is ridiculous,” Y/N muttered.

But the four wanted to go, feeling the need—no matter how unsafe—to be near the hatchling that had chosen them.

“At least take a knife,” she said, pressing one of the (many) daggers she had into each of their hands when Xaro and Pyat had turned their backs. And that was all she could do. They would not be argued with. Y/N could only wish that she had been left in better company than Ser Jorah Mormont who seemed to be already in love with Daenerys. She did not like it. But she knew she could not always fight every battle for them, even if she wished she could, even if she wished she could shoulder the burden she knew they felt on their too-young shoulders. Their heartbreak, their anger, it was hers, too. And she would do anything she could to help make them smile again. And now? It seemed that meant waiting.

As the sun rose in the sky and then set and the moon soon followed, Y/N had not moved from the seat she had taken on the steps leading inside. Jorah had spoken to her, about his life in Westeros but she did not particularly care. He seemed to have received a lenient sentence for his crimes. But he had been proven loyal to Daenerys while Viserys had traded her to Drogo. An ally was an ally. Sending him away when they had so few this side of the Narrow Sea would be unwise.

Smoke rising on the horizon made her finally move from her seat.

But then the gate opened again and Rhaenys, Aegon, Jon, and Daenerys came rushing back, each with their hatchling carefully held in their grasps.

“We must go! Now!” Daenerys said—she quickly said it again in Dothraki and the assembled khalasar splintered, quickly picking up anything worth value as they moved.

“Khaleesi? What happened?”

Daenerys did not answer—but Jon did. “It was a trap. We’ve killed them. We must leave.”

“Where are we going?” Y/N had to ask, following them back inside to gather her things and to help pilfer.

“We will figure it out later! We must go!”

With a sword in one hand and a golden candelabra in the other, Y/N felt a chill slide down her spine and she turned to see Quaithe again. The woman simply stared at her, unmoving for a heartbeat or two, and then she slithered from the shadows. “You are their shadow, my lady. The sharp shadow. A shark with dark teeth.”

“That is not helpful!” Y/N hissed in return.

“You will learn. Just as they have—they listened. They did not trust the whisper they heard.”

“Y/N! We must go!”

She turned at the sound of the outburst to see Aegon, arms full of sacks filled with thieved treasures and Viserion on his shoulder. When she turned back to Quaithe, she was gone. Again. Y/N pushed out a sigh and turned, dashing out of the manse and not looking back. They only stopped for a moment for Y/N to dig up her buried treasure.

“You could not help yourself, could you?”

“Now is not the time, Jon.”

When they reached the port, she could already hear the screams coming from the city. Whatever had transpired at the House of the Undying was clearly more than anyone could have anticipated. Some of the Valyrian steel they had meant to sell to the Pureborn was handed over to a captain of a large ship—large enough for them and the small khalasar—and fast enough, too. Quickly, she bought a bit of ink and parchment from a vendor who seemed nonplussed at all the commotion.

She needed help.

She needed Oberyn. She needed Willas.

I do not know where we are going after Qarth, I only know that both Rhaenys and Daenerys seem to be answering a call I cannot hear. Aegon and Jon follow where they lead. Toward destiny or ruin or both, I do not know. But I do know that I cannot do this without you. I cannot guide them without you. I need you. Please.

She wrote a few lines more on each of them, asking them to bring who they wanted, pleading with Oberyn to bring Ellaria, asking Willas to continue to write to her if he could not or would not come. All of it. For the first time in over a decade, she prayed to any of the deities she could remember as she signed her name. She shoved the pair of missives into a familiar captain’s hands along with a small sack of gold and told him where to have them sent as their small group boarded the boat. All she could do was hope.

**

Astapor would not have been her first choice.

It would not have been her fifteenth choice. But Jorah had convinced Daenerys that they needed an army, a true army, not the small khalasar that they currently had. The famed Unsullied of Astapor could provide that…supposedly.

But there was a certain set to her jaw, and an unspoken look between Daenerys, Rhaenys, Aegon, and Jon that had Y/N thinking they all had ulterior motives. She had seen that same look between Ellia and Oberyn years ago, a silent conversation only they would understand. While it made her sad, it also made her hopeful. Hopeful for a future where they could all love and care for each other without fear.

Fear. A terrible thing.

Another reason why Astapor would have been avoided if she had been asked. But Ser Jorah had Daenerys’ ear and had filled her mind of thoughts of Unsullied. An army made entirely of men who would follow orders without question, who were thought to not feel pain or fear.

But, Y/N found that his words had soured the more he spoke of their ‘training’ and they stepped into the red-bricked city. Daenerys grew furious when they were given a ‘taste’ of the Unsullied and the good master, a terribly mustachioed man named Kraznys, had bragged about how they did not feed them or give them water for a day and a night and they would stand guard until they dropped. ‘Such is their obedience,’ his translator, a delicately beautiful young woman from Naath named Missandei said. All of it made Y/N’s skin crawl.

“Khaleesi. The Unsullied are chosen as boys and trained-”

“I have heard and seen all I care for about their training!” Daenerys hissed before she cracked a slap across Jorah’s cheek, tears glistening in her eyes as they retired back to the manse they had ‘graciously’ been given for the night.

Y/N glanced back at Aegon and Jon who suddenly found the manse’s ceiling very interesting but Rhaenys kept her eyes firmly trained on her aunt.

Jorah clutched at his reddened cheek. “If I have displeased my queen-”

“You have displeased me greatly, Ser. If you were my true knight, you would never have brought me to this vile sty.” Daenerys’ bottom lip trembled as if she wanted to say more but she kept quiet and turned to Y/N. “We should not have come here; I am so sorry.”

Y/N shook her head and drew Daenerys into her hold. She did not have words to soothe her. What could she say? But she watched Jorah slink from the room and kissed Daenerys’ forehead as she had done hundreds of times in Braavos. Before all of this. Before dragons.

“I want to help them,” Daenerys murmured as she pulled back from Y/N’s arms. “They are people in need of help. They do not… they do not deserve this. If we are in a position of power, should we not help them?”

“Our position of power is fragile and small,” she stressed the word. “We must be smart. There are thousands of them and only a few dozen of us.”

“That has never stopped you,” Rhaenys said with a smirk that had Y/N sighing. “And there might be thousands of them but we have dragons.”

“Baby dragons,” Y/N murmured.

“But dragons all the same,” Daenerys said, reaching out to Rhaenys who quickly took her hand.

“We have been running all our lives, unsafe for who we are. Unsafe because of something we did not chose. If… if I am to be queen, I do not want to know that there are people in this world in shackles when I had the power to help them.”

Aegon and Jon stepped up, hands on their swords. “We will help you.”

Y/N nodded. “In Skilliga, all people are free—we were looked down upon because of that by the supposed Free Cities and the Valyrian Empire before the Doom. I will fight this battle beside you. As always.”

And that is how they found themselves back in the revolting company of the good master. At first, they offered the small mountain of Valyrian steel. But, just as in Qarth, the ‘good masters’ of Astapor did not want Valyrian steel. They wanted dragons. And Kraznys always posed his questions to Aegon and Jon—as if Daenerys and Rhaenys were not there at all. Missandei, however, seemed to understand immediately that it was the women who were truly steering this possible transaction.

Y/N liked Missandei.

“We will need time to think of your offer,” Aegon said as he stood from his seat. The rest of them followed suit. There was no way any of the dragons were going to be forfeited for an army, but Kraznys did not need to know that just yet.

Kraznys sneered as he looked at them and Y/N did not need Missandei to translate his next insult. And she really didn’t think ‘stupid sunset girls’ really applied to all of them. At all. But that did not matter. When they arrived at the manse and one of Daenerys’s handmaidens, a petite woman named Irri, greeted them at the door, she was speaking rapidly, and pointing toward the manse’s solar.

For a moment, Y/N had the horrible thought that the hatchlings had been stolen again but then she caught the words “sun” and “prince.” And then she and Daenerys were darting away from the group and running toward where Irri had pointed.

She could hear them before she saw them.

But she turned a corner and saw a head full of brown curls and a familiar, shining black cane and her heart leapt into her throat as he turned to face her.

“My lady-”

She threw her arms around him in a hug and held him tight. “Oh, Willas. Oh my dear, sweet Willas. You’ve come.” And she nearly wept when she felt his arms wrap around her back and squeeze, she didn’t even care that the handle of his cane was digging into her spine. She didn’t care. He was here and in her arms.

“You have not changed at all, my lady,” he murmured as he pulled back just enough to look into her eyes. “Your latest letter was a…most welcome surprise.”

His warm hand gently cradled her cheek and she felt tears stinging at her eyes at the soft touch. It had been far too long since someone had touched her…at all. Especially with such care.

“I’ve missed you,” Willas whispered.

Y/N opened her mouth to respond, to tell him that she had missed him more than she could have ever put into words and so she did not try, but then the rest of her brood were rushing by her and into the solar.

“Uncle Oberyn!” Rhaenys nearly wailed.

Y/N pulled back to see Rhaenys fling herself at Oberyn who was crying into her two-toned hair with a broad smile on his face. He was older now, true. But still as handsome.

Willas’s hand gently grasped hers and led her a little further into the room. “Let me introduce you to my fair traveling companions.” He smiled at her, as if feeling her sudden nerves through her hand as it clutched his. “They were kind enough to let me stowaway on their ship after we received your letters.” He laughed but then waved a hand at the woman nearest to him. She was tall with thick, wavy black hair, dotted with golden jewelry and soft yellow samite wrapped around her in a beautiful dress with a copper belt around her waist. “This is Lady Ellaria Sand.”

Ellaria was even more beautiful than Y/N could have ever imagined. She had a regal beauty and kind eyes. Her hands were soft as she reached for Y/N and she happily let the other woman pull her into her grasp in welcome. “It was kind of you to think of me.”

“I would not have Oberyn part with the love of his life,” Y/N said as she stepped back, still smelling Ellaria’s fine perfume. “It was kind of you to join us across the Narrow Sea. I hope your daughters did not mind the waves.”

Ellaria turned and smiled at the young girls who were already surrounding Aegon and Rhaenys and cooing over the still-growing hatchlings who preened with the attention. “This was their first ship ride of this length. But they are simply happy for a bit of adventure.”

Three more women were sitting with Jon and Daenerys, speaking quietly in the corner. “That is Nymeria, Obara, and Tyene,” Willas informed her in a whisper.

“Sarella is still at the Citadel?” Y/N asked.

Ellaria nodded with a chuckle. “I am sure it was a heavy decision for her. Oberyn has promised to bring her back all the relics our ship can hold.”

“And I shall deliver on that promise, will I not, my love?” Oberyn said, appearing at Ellaria’s side and kissing her slowly at the corner of her mouth before turning to Y/N. Before she could even try to think of an appropriate greeting, Oberyn reached out and his large hands were grasping at her face and he was kissing her. She was frozen, like a scared little mouse cornered by a viper. But he tasted delicious—like citrus and spice and heat. And as soon as it started, he stepped back. His smile was large, large still as he looked at her confused face. “It is good to see you, Little Shark.”

Willas’ warm hand on her back pulled Y/N back to reality before she glanced at Ellaria who only winked at her. This did nothing to ease her growing confusion but Y/N shuffled the group toward the small hall the manse provided, telling everyone to sit more comfortably instead of standing.

Oberyn told them of how the Usurper was dead and how the Seven Kingdoms had fallen into war. The War of the Five Kings they called it. “Your mother’s family,” Oberyn said as he looked at Jon, “seem to be the largest threat to the Lannisters. They have captured Jamie Lannister.”

Jon seemed pleased with that, in his own quiet way.

“Perhaps an alliance could be made,” Ellaria said. “It would be good to have a Northron ally,” She turned and smiled at Willas, “Aside from our sweet Willas and his band of fair flowers.”

Willas’ cheeks bloomed with color at Ellaria’s words. “My grandmother and I are ready whenever we are needed. Right now, we are letting Margaery play at being queen. She knows it will only be temporary, but she has been…trained by my grandmother in all the ways she knows to sway the opinion of the low and highborn. I am sure by the time we make landfall, they may be waiting for you all with open arms.”

“I do not believe it will be hard to sway them when Cersei Lannister and her little golden children are waging war and starving them,” one of the older Sand Snakes, Obara, muttered. Y/N liked Obara.

“But enough talk of Westeros! Tell us of your lives here in Essos.”

And so they did. They started from the beginning—the four of them told their family of how they jumped from city to city, evading assassins and would-lords in search of gold and glory, all while learning of their family and former homeland across the Narrow Sea. Rhaenys was nearly glowing as she recounted their time along the Rhoyne and everyone at the table seemed entranced, too, promising to see for themselves the land that had once belonged to their ancestors. And all of that led to Astapor and the possible deal with the good master.

“You cannot truly be thinking of giving him a dragon?” Tyene asked.

“I will play his game.” Daenerys slid her hand down Drogon’s neck and the ever-growing hatchling trilled as he looked at his mother, as if agreeing to what she wanted. “He will simply not know that it is my game, my rules.”

The rest of the night was spent filled with terrible Astapori wine and shared food and laughter. Y/N was yawning but smiled when she felt Willas’ fingers trace across the back of her neck as Balerion was curled contentedly on his lap beside her. He seemed to realize what he was doing and his hand snapped back to his side, disturbing the old cat who meowed, displeased, before leaping across the table to settle in Rhaenys’ hold.

“Sorry, my lady.”

But she shook her head, still smiling. “Never apologize.”

They spoke for a little longer before Dorea and Loreza started to fall asleep in their seats and Ellaria excused herself to tuck them into bed, letting Aegon lead the way to one of the guest rooms. The group dispersed, little by little, until it was only Y/N, Willas, and Oberyn left in the hall.

“I must take my leave, my lady,” Willas said with a yawn. “I am sure I will need all my energy for tomorrow.” He looked at her then, and she could not read his face though she tried. But his intentions became clear as his lips touched her cheek before his cane tapped against the floor as he retired for the night.

Y/N nearly leapt out of her skin when Oberyn’s hand enveloped hers when he settled beside her as she watched Willas walk away. But he only chuckled. “Peace, Little Shark, peace. It is just me.”

She huffed out a laugh and let her other hand cover his. “It is good to see you, truly. You and your family…you all seem so happy.”

“We are. My daughters are healthy and happy and Ellaria is the light of my days. And you,” he squeezed her hand, “you, little shark, have raised my sister’s children. You have kept them safe and healthy and happy.” He untangled their hands only to touch the sun pendant around her throat for a moment and a brief, sad smile pulled at his lips before he reached up to grasp her face again, gentle and warm. “You. Do not think to undermine yourself to me. You love them as they love you. You have taken on a responsibility you needn’t call yours—all because you loved my sister.” He kissed her forehead. “You have loved my family.” He kissed her right cheek and Y/N felt her breath stutter in her lungs. “You have helped them bring magic back into this wretched world.” He kissed her left. “And you…you still smile like the girl I knew all those years ago.” And then he kissed her again, brushing his lips against hers with a happy sigh and all Y/N could do was let him guide her, let him rob her lungs of air for the second time that night, let him fulfill a dream she had selfishly kept since her girlhood in Westeros.

But then she remembered Ellaria. Her hand found Oberyn’s chest and she gently pushed.

“What is it?” He asked, voice soft. “If I have overstepped-”

“The mother of your youngest is asleep in the other room, My Prince.”

“And she would take the time to kiss you properly as well. And she will, when or if you give her the opportunity.” His familiar roguish smile made her stomach twist with pleasant butterflies. “My heart may have found its match with my love, Ellaria, but that does not mean yours does not call to mine as well. We were made to delight in all the gods have given us. Ellaria and I often share in our delights. If you, my little shark, are amiable, I would like to keep kissing you. I would like for Ellaria to have her chance to kiss you, too.” And when she went to bed that night, slipping under her blankets, her mind hazed with thoughts of soft lips and kind words and the scent of roses she could not place.

The next day, they solidified the deal with Kraznys. He had tried to say he would only give them all of the Unsullied for all four dragons, but Daenerys stood firm and only agreed to one. The biggest. Drogon.

“And I shall take you as well,” Daenerys said as she turned to Missandei. “As a mark of a deal well struck.”

Missandei quickly translated to Kraznys who then waved a dismissive hand, allowing it. As if Missandei were not a person. It turned her stomach.

As soon as they were back at their manse, Rhaenys took the thick collar from around Missandei’s neck and threw it into the hearth, letting the leather smoke and burn.

“Is there a family on Naath we might reunite you with? A father, a mother?”

Missandei shook her head. “There is no one left of my family on Naath, your grace. This one is…alone.”

Daenerys reached out and gently took Missandei’s hands in her own. “You are no longer alone. You are with us. You are a free person—if you ever tire of our company, simply say so and we shall let you go wherever you wish. We will give you gold, a ship—anything you may need. I swear it.”

Missandei’s dark gold eyes searched Daenerys’ face before looking to Rhaenys and doing the same. “I will be able to leave?”

Rhaenys nodded. “Now, tomorrow, ten years from now. If you want to leave, we will make sure you are given all you require to make a comfortable life for yourself.”

“And what of the Unsullied who become yours tomorrow?”

Daenerys and Rhaenys wore matching, Cheshire smiles. “We have plans for them.”

**

“Are you certain of this plan?” Willas whispered as he watched Y/N place one of her (many) swords into its scabbard around her waist. They had been speaking all morning, of his time at Highgarden, of him traveling to Sunspear under the pretense of meeting with Princess Arianne, all of it. And she found herself realizing how easy it was to speak to him—how easy it had always been. But then the topic suddenly changed as he ask of the plan Daenerys and Rhaenys had hatched.

“I am,” she said.

“They are all destined to rule, in one way or another. They are queens; I am only an advisor. I must trust in their judgement.”

“And if it fails?”

“It won’t.” She slid another blade up her sleeve. “But I am never unprepared.” Y/N turned to Willas and smiled as she reached out to press a hand to his cheek. The mustache he had grown since she had last seen him suited him. He was always so handsome. “It is good to have you here. I shudder to think of the state of my nerves if you had refused my call.”

Willas smiled and reached up to cover her hand with his. “You know I could never refuse you, my lady.”

Y/N wanted to say more—wanted to say something, anything—but Aegon appeared in the doorway of her chambers before she could. Her hand snapped back down to her side. “It is time to go, Y/N.” His dark purple eyes shifted to Willas, “and you as well, my lord.”

Y/N nodded and stepped away from Willas with a strange, shaking smile.

In a strange procession, their group, growing by the day, arrived back at the Plaza of Pride (a stupid name). Drogon had been wrestled into a small cart that morning, his little belly filled with fine steak and Daenerys had peppered kisses along his scaled head before she had sealed him away. The battalions of Unsullied were all standing at rest, spears and shields held in front of them. Slowly, Daenerys walked to the small cart and undid its strappings, pulling Drogon from his makeshift cage with the chain on his foot. He pulled against his bonds as he neared the master. He knew.

“Is it done then? They belong to us?”

The master answered and Missandei translated. “It is done. You hold the whip.”

But the master continued talking, once again calling them all a bunch of bitches and mongrels but Daenerys did not flinch. She merely turned toward the army she now commanded and held up the whip.

“Unsullied!” Daenerys called out in her perfect High Valyrian. Y/N watched Missandei’s head snap around to look at the petite woman.

They instantly moved to attention.

“March forward!” They did. “Halt!” They did.

Y/N looked to Daenerys and then to the other three, seeing them all strangely calm. They were conquerors. They were blood of Old Valyria. They were Nymeria’s heirs. They were her charges.

“Tell the bitch the beast will not come,” the master said as Drogon continued to pull against his hold.

Daenerys slowly turned to face him, still holding the whip. “A dragon is not a slave.”

“You speak Valyrian?” He asked, aghast. But still not embarrassed.

“I am Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen, of the blood of Old Valyria. Valyrian is my mother tongue.”

Aegon had to hide his smile behind his hand.

But then Daenerys turned back toward the Unsullied, her face set in stone. “Unsullied! Slay the masters, slay the soldiers, slay every man who holds a whip, but harm no child. Strike the chains off every slave you see!”

And they did. In the next breath, the handful of masters walking at the flanks of the Unsullied had spears through their backs.

“I am your master!” The man screamed. “Kill her! Kill them all!”

“Dracarys.”

Y/N watched Drogon open his mouth and scream. Fire consumed the ‘good master’ and he screamed, too. It was a glorious scene. And, all at once, the square devolved into chaos. The assorted masters, who had come to witness the glory of the dragon, were killed where they stood. Jorah drew his sword but Y/N simply crossed her arms and watched everything unfold.

And, it was over within a span of only a few moments. The slavers were burnt and bloody. Dead. As they should be. But they were not finished.

Daenerys and her niece and nephews mounted their horses and rode through the Unsullied ranks. “Unsullied!” Daenerys called out. “You have been slaves all your life. Today, we give you freedom.”

“Any man who wishes to leave may leave, and no one will harm him. We give you our word,” Aegon said next. Y/N looked out to see a few of the helmeted men covertly glance up at him.

“Will you fight for us? As free men?” Daenerys’ voice rang out and was met with silence. For a moment. And then a single spear was smacked against the sand. Another joined. And then another. And another until the plaza was filled with the sound of the strange sound of the spears in sand.

They had their army. The city was theirs.

**

They did not leave Astapor immediately. They could not leave the city unguarded or without a stable ruling body. And a way to stabilize the economy.

The city needed to rebuilt from the destruction and just…overall. It was not well kept outside the former masters’ manses. Weeks turned to months as they met with the city’s population, trying to establish a ruling council of men and women who knew the city best and wanted to see it thrive. The Valyrian steel they still had was traded for brick and mortar, food, and medicines. Weapons. And while the city seemed to be getting its metaphorical feet back under itself again, it did nearly deplete their coffers. The gold from the dead masters was seized and redistributed to the freedmen to make sure they could provide for themselves as they settled into the new normal of the city and started their new lives.

The new Kings and Queens of the city took up residence in one of the manses and Balerion found the large open windows a favorite place to nap when he was not harassing the hatchlings, unafraid of their literal ability to breathe fire.

Rhaenys met with a small council of freedmen who had been in charge of the city’s infrastructure and had devised a plan to irrigate the city and its surrounding lands by diverting the water from Astapor’s river, which had been called Worm since the city’s inception. A terrible name, if Y/N was being honest.

But the irrigation was quickly done with new aqueducts and small orchards for plums and olives and lemons were planted, the small khalasar carrying in the plants from outside the city. A vineyard for persimmons was also widened in the center of the city, as Rhaenys knew that Astapor had the ability to make a fairly expensive and tart wine with the fruit. It made Y/N smile to realize that Rhaenys had a gift for creating (an albeit small) fertile wetland out of patch of a desert landscape.

Schools were fitted into the empty manses and training schools were established. It was slow work, true, but Y/N could not argue with the tired smiles that she saw on her charges faces each night as they gathered for dinner.

Jon and Aegon were fond of training alongside the Unsullied who were also helping other freedmen learn how to handle a sword and shield. The army was a force to be feared, truly. Grey Worm, the man they had elected to speak as their commander, had become another advisor. He spoke only High Valyrian as the rest of the Astapor did, but Missandei had been taking the time to teach who she could the Common Tongue. He was a man of the sword in all ways—but Y/N did see how his eyes softened ever so slightly whenever Missandei was in his presence. Small rebellions from former masters were quickly dealt with. There would be no room for it under their new rule. Oberyn and Willas were firm and fair advisors to the four younger regents. When to dispense bloody justice and when to stay their hand, how to broker trade with foreign kingdoms and settle arguments and disputes between their subjects—they provided guidance that Y/N and Ser Jorah could not. Missandei was a voice of the people and helped them truly know their subjects. She was the strongest of them all, Y/N was sure of it. Ellaria had a strength of her own, endearing herself and the young regents to anyone and anyone she encountered by showering them with gold for their trades and commissioning songs.

And the hatchlings were growing even faster, larger by the day. Y/N often went to market in the mornings to buy goats and cows to feed them when the others were still asleep, trying to keep the dragons from eating someone’s livestock without being compensated for it (again).

Drogon nudged her side as she dragged the fresh meat toward him and she patted his warm snout in greeting. “Good morning to you, too.”

Viserion and Rhaegal were still sleeping, curled around each other over the remnants of a fire that had been burnt last night. But Vēzos was already high in the sky, yellow and orange scales glittering in the early morning glow. But she landed after spotting her breakfast and let out a puff of smoke around Y/N’s face in thanks before she devoured her share.

“Y/N!”

She turned abruptly at the sound of Jon’s voice and frowned when she saw the unhidden panic on his pale features. Rhaegal suddenly rose from the embers of his bed and huffed, sensing his bonded’s dread. “What is it?”

**

Mayhaps Y/N should not have been surprised to see Xaro amongst the ‘envoys’ from the other slaver cities. It was not as if they had left Qarth on the best of terms…or unscathed.

“We will give you all the boats and soldiers you want or will need to retake Westeros, as long as you leave Slaver’s Bay. Immediately. And allow us to rectify the mess you have made of Astapor.”

“Removing shackles is a mess? Freeing men, women, and children is a mess?”

Drogon and Rhaegal both rumbled from behind their parents and the envoys all stumbled back, some tripping over their ornate robes and gilded slippers.

“It is our way of life!” Someone from Yunkai shouted, voice trembling.

“And their lives have value—more than the coin that line your palms.”

“Astapor is prospering,” Oberyn said. “Our coffers are twice as plentiful now with our wines and citrus and olives as they were when they traded in flesh and bone.”

“And your slaves have heard,” Rhaenys said. She looked regal on the throne beside her brothers and aunt. The Astapori gown she had commission from a freedwoman was made of a beautiful soft yellow linen and her hair was braided with a pair of golden bells at the end, a gift from Irri who had said she had earned it by helping take Astapor and the defeat of the Warlocks in Qarth. “They have heard of our people prosper. How they are free.” And that was true, there had been whispers of a start of an uprising in Yunkai and Meereen since they had taken Astapor.

“You are suggesting that we should free our slaves for a chance-”

“You were the ones to demand an audience,” Daenerys said. “And we were gracious enough to grant your request. But now that you are here, we do have a request. Free your slaves, pay them for their labor from the time you have sought to own them, and set aside your whips and chains.”

“We will not!” “Never!” On and on, the envoy refused.

“The Harpy will have her due!”

Aegon moved in front of Rhaenys, not even bothering to put his hand on the hilt of his sword. “The Harpy is a legend. A statue you have all built from the gold you have accumulated through the blood of innocents. We have four very real dragons and an army better trained and better equipped than your pampered slavers. Send your harpies.”

**

Y/N groaned as she saw yet another slash she had not remembered receiving when she was readying for bed that night. She had taken to sparring with Jon and Aegon alongside the Unsullied who were not on guard or patrol duties. It had apparently been far too long since she had dedicated time to training of that caliber—not that any of them could even hope to compare to Grey Worm and his compatriots. For now, the threats from Yunkai, Meereen, and Qarth had been unfulfilled. But they were still on their guard. But she did take a few moments of the day to help Dorea and Loreza and Obella work on their fighting stances. Elia, the eldest of the Sand Snakes born to Ellaria, was already very comfortable with her spear and had been taking to training with the Unsullied. Well, they were very patient with her and very gentle—as gentle as they could be. They were a fearsome bunch.

Y/N pulled the linen chemise over her head and reached for her dressing gown after cleaning the small wound.

“My lady,” a soft spoken handmaiden stuck her head into the chambers. “You have a visitor.”

“Send them in, please. I am just about decent enough for company.”

The handmaiden laughed quietly and nodded as Y/N tied the sash around her waist.

“Willas has been quite beneficial—he seems to have a magic touch when it comes to those persimmon trees. They bloom more every day.”

Y/N smiled as she turned to see Oberyn walking into the room. “Well, I have been told he is quite good with anything green. I would not be surprised if he and Rhaenys managed to raise a forest to rival Qohor from the sand.”

Oberyn chuckled and he held out a hand toward her. “Come, take a walk with me before you rest for the night. The night is cool enough for us to enjoy the moonlight.”

Y/N happily took his offered arm and let him lead her out to the gardens around their manse. And it was true, the air was cool and she could hear the faintest rumblings of the sea alongside the murmurs of the city. The gardens were still blooming with flowers despite the heat and the strange flora was a welcome respite from the red brick and sand of the city. It curved and cornered in a strange maze, leading around small fountains, and statues of legendary creatures, never reaching higher than their waists.

“How are your daughters finding the bay?”

“They find the air much like that of Dorne, so they do not mind the heat. But they do enjoy putting their Valyrian lessons to use and trying to learn all they can from the Unsullied.”

“They are formidable.”

Oberyn chuckled. “I would have them no other way. Dorne may be kinder than the other kingdoms of Westeros, but I would not have them unprepared for the rest of the world.” He squeezed her hand. “Just as you have made sure that the four under your care are prepared as well.”

“I have tried my best, my prince.”

Oberyn pulled them to a stop as they neared a bench and they settled next to each other and watched two of the dragons test their wings above them. “We have entered a new world. Dragons have come again. The Martell bloodline is conquering cities.”

“They want to make it a better world. And I want to see them succeed.”

“I will help them in all of their goals, I swear that to you.”

Y/N smiled, knowing what he said was true. She had never known him to break an oath.

“It seems, little shark, that we are not the only ones who thought of admiring the gardens tonight,” Oberyn whispered. He pointed toward the other side of the maze with a growing smile. Willas was standing at Ellaria’s side, looking as red as could be and trying to hide it behind his hand. Ellaria was smiling at him as if she hadn’t a care in the world—but the glint in her beautiful eyes told Y/N that Ellaria knew exactly the effect she was having on the lord.

“He does not quite know how to hold his wine,” Oberyn said with a smirk. “If given too much, he would accept any challenge.”

“Is that why there is now a golden pearl on his ear, my prince?”

Oberyn only chuckled. “You must admit, he looks quite dashing.”

“Yes, he does. But you know I’ve always been fond of his shy smile.”

“And he has been fond of you.”

Y/N clicked her tongue and shook her head. “Perhaps when I was younger, still a young wife in the making with connections to a royal court or two. It has been ages since I have made him smile like that.”

Now it was Oberyn’s turn to shake his head. “Little Lord Willas, heir to one of the most powerful kingdoms in Westeros, has remained unmarried and unattached since you disappeared from Dragonstone, little shark. And it is not for lack of trying from the many unmarried women who know of his status.”

It would be a lie to say that her heart did not clench when it was said aloud and so bluntly. “It would be foolish to think-”

“Despite his family’s animosity, he and I have…become friends.”

“Friends?” Y/N parroted with an arch of her eyebrow.

Oberyn’s wolfish smile made her stomach flip, as it always did. “You know I treat my friends well.”

Y/N shook her head with a smile, biting her lip. “No wonder he has remained unmarried. Who could compete with the Red Viper?”

Oberyn’s warm hand settled over hers and squeezed. “You know I am not opposed to having a married person in my bed. It was not me who kept him from calling someone wife.”

Y/N scoffed. “You cannot be insinuating that I-”

“I’m not insinuating anything, little shark. I am telling you. The man has been in love with you since you first came to Westeros. When he was still a shy young thing and you were the foreign maid who acted as my sister’s shadow.”

“We haven’t seen each other in over a decade. I am now old enough to be considered an old maid-”

“And the heart wants what the heart wants. He has come half way across the world because you asked him to. Now, tell me, why did you ask him?”

“I…” She tried to think of an answer. Because he had helped her flee. Because he was a friend. Because because because. But none of those reasons seemed like the truth. “I do not know.”

**

A small skirmish had broken out on the borders of Astapor. The sellsword company known as the Windblown had allegedly been hired by Yunkai to deal with the ‘dragon kings and queens.’ It, of course, hadn’t worked and they were pushed back the Unsullied.

The fight had only given them all credence to continue to feed the rebellions in the other cities and slowly cut off their supply chains at the mouth of the bay. This morning, Y/N was reviewing the takings from the ships they had seized when she noticed a familiar face was missing.

“Where has Oberyn gone?” Y/N asked as she entered the kitchens, finding Ellaria there, pouring a bit of honey over a bowl of berries.

“He set off in the night, some mission on his mind.”

“You did not go with him?” Y/N asked as she slipped into the seat beside her, plucking a handful of berries from the bowl. “I am surprised he would not have you at his side.”

Ellaria chuckled and shook her head. “He asked, but I did not think our daughters would like to be too far from the excitement of the cities.” She popped a berry between her beautiful lips with a growing smile. “And I did hope we could know each other a little better. Oberyn always speaks of you so fondly. I feel as if we are friends already.”

Y/N felt a wash of warmth as she looked at the other woman and nodded. “I feel that way as well. But I would be honored if I could steal a bit of your time today, if your daughters would not mind.”

Ellaria gave her another dashing smile. “I am sure they will survive a few hours without me.”

And so, Y/N let Ellaria lead her around the city, mostly through the markets that Y/N had not had the chance to truly peruse. And it was true, they had settled into a camaraderie that usually took years to build. Ellaria might have been the most beautiful woman Y/N had ever seen, but she was also kind and funny and had a sharp wit with a matching, striking smile. Y/N only wished she’d had the fortune of having her as a friend years ago—but Y/N would take what she could get now. And hold to it desperately.

“This?” Y/N held up a pale lilac bit of silk, they had been trying to find the right fabric for a new dress for Y/N—apparently Ellaria found Y/N’s lack of dresses something to be rectified.

Ellaria shook her head and picked up a stretch of red lace, filled with delicate flowers with tiny golden thread woven within. Ellaria draped it over Y/N’s shoulder with a smile. “This suits you. The flowers. Just a touch of gold. It is delicate—like you.”

Y/N chuckled and let her finger slide against the edge of the lace. “I do not think I have ever been called delicate.”

Ellaria’s soft fingers gently grasped Y/N’s chin and there was a steely determination in her gaze as she looked into Y/N’s eyes. “You are delicate, Y/N. Your skin and soul may have been forged in steel, but your heart is delicate. You have a soft, gentle heart. And you are ever the more beautiful for it.” Her hand moved to cradle Y/N’s cheek, surely feeling its warmth. “Do you not see yourself as I do?”

“Apparently not,” Y/N said with a shake of her head, not too rough to have Ellaria’s touch leave.

“You are,” she said and then leaned close enough to just barely brush her lips against hers before she pulled the lace from around Y/N’s shoulders and turned back to the merchant. “We will take all of this. Thank you.”

And then Ellaria was all but hauling her back into the cooled shadows of their manse and out into the gardens again, dropping their lace and silks off into the hands of a smiling handmaiden who giggled as they walked by.

It was just the pair of them in the garden, listening to the trickling of water and the wind as it rustled the rigged leaves and branches of the maze. But all Y/N could feel, see, hear, was Ellaria.

Ellaria and her beautiful lips.

Ellaria’s mouth was soft as it moved against hers. And she sighed so prettily when Y/N tangled her fingers into her thick hair and tugged.

“Oh.”

Y/N pulled away from Ellaria’s beautiful mouth to see Willas standing near one of the fountains, a pink tinge to his cheeks and a white-knuckle grip on his cane.

“Lord Willas,” Ellaria called out, her voice husky, “join us.”

Willas looked away, cheeks still roaring with color, and shook his head. “I am afraid I would only…get in the way.” He cleared his throat and turned. “Please, excuse me.”

Y/N watched him go, mind clearing for a moment, and frowned.

Ellaria dragged her lips against Y/N’s cheek. “He will join us when he’s ready. I promise you that.” She sponged a kiss at the corner of Y/N’s mouth. “But I do not want to be interrupted again. If you are agreeable, I want to see what you have hiding under this hideous tunic.”

And well, Y/N could never tell her no and led her back to her chambers and locked the door.

Ellaria was even softer beneath her fine, silk dress that Y/N slowly pushed down her arms to greedily cup her full breasts in her hands.

“Eager,” Ellaria said with a breathy chuckle.

Y/N could only whine against her mouth as she felt Ellaria’s nimble fingers slide easily beneath the tops of her leather breeches. They were pushed down her legs and her loose tunic was pulled up and over her head before Ellaria all but shoved her back onto the featherbed, watching her bounce with a smile. Y/N didn’t even have thought to be a little shy over her nakedness—she just wanted Ellaria close again. And then Ellaria was crawling up the bed and settling across Y/N’s stomach, warm thighs bracketing her ribs. And there was something nearly magical with knowing she was the cause of the slick spot she could feel growing just above her belly button. She had made Ellaria feel like that.

Y/N’s hands slid up her smooth skin to hold her hips and Ellaria’s hands settled over hers with a widening smile.

“I like seeing you like this,” Ellaria said before leaning down to lick across Y/N’s mouth before kissing her thoroughly, oh so easily stealing the breath from her lungs. Then she moved. Her lips trailed down Y/N’s neck, to her chest, teeth scraping against the curve of her breasts as she slid down Y/N’s body, and dragged her slick lips against Y/N’s skin. Her mind was a warm mess—all there was, was Ellaria and her beautiful mouth. Ellaria and her perfect hands. Ellaria and her wet tongue.

Ellaria slipped between Y/N’s legs and kissed her left hip and then her right before licking a bold stripe against Y/N’s folds, wrenching a broken moan from her lips. “So pretty,” Ellaria cooed. And her grip tightened. Again and again the Dornishwoman’s tongue curled and twisted and Y/N could feel an unfamiliar coil start to tighten in her stomach as her thighs suddenly clamped around Ellaria’s head. The woman only laughed against her core and the vibrations had Y/N moaning, hands reaching down to tangle in Ellaria’s perfect, perfumed hair. Ellaria managed to wriggle her hand between them and curled one finger and then two into the wet heat of Y/N’s core and started to slide them in and out, in and out, wet sounds filling the air alongside Y/N’s growing moans.

It was perfect. She was perfect. And as soon as Ellaria curled her fingers, the coil snapped and Y/N sobbed. Her heart was racing, sweat and dotted her chest and brow but she felt beautiful and her vision cleared and she looked down to see Ellaria pressing her cheek against her hip, drawing shapes against her heated skin with the dull nail of her forefinger.

“You must teach me how to do that. I want to make you feel like this.”

And so…Ellaria did.

**

The next morning, Ellaria was still sleeping peacefully, tangled in Y/N’s silken blankets as she rose with the sun. Y/N gently pressed a kiss to her cheek and slipped away from her comforting warmth to ready for the day and found Daenerys sitting on one of the manse’s balconies, watching the four hatchlings soar above the gardens as the sun grew hotter and higher in the sky. Y/N sat beside her and had a bit of food brought out so they could break their fast together. Daenerys seemed…happy. Truly. Happier than she had been since Y/N had seen her last, as a child. But there was something she was not saying. Y/N knew it.

“Tell me what is on your mind, Dany.” She reached out and gently grasped the young princess’ hand and squeezed three times.

“I do not…” She paused. “I was born on Dragonstone. I am the princess of the rightful ruling family.” She pushed out a long breath. “I will see my niece on the Iron Throne and I know the kingdom will be better for it.”

“But?” Y/N asked, knowing there was something else that needed to be said.

“But I do not know if Westeros is my home. I have no memories of it. Jon and Aegon do not either but they still feel some sort of calling, a need to go back.” The wind blew a bit of her silver hair across her face as she looked out across the bay. “I do not feel that. Viserys sold me for the throne he thought he deserved and I found a small bit of solace in my few friends in my khalasar and then more here with the Unsullied and the freedmen of the bay.”

Y/N watched a few emotions flitter across Daenerys’ face before she turned back to the bay, too. “You have been pushed and pulled to one place or another your entire life, Dany. Finding a place where you feel at home is something to be proud of. Do not let other people’s opinions or aspirations dictate yours. You deserve a home. Peace.”

“And where is your home? Skilliga?”

Y/N shrugged. “Skilliga has housed me and raised me just as much as Westeros and Essos has, I suppose. I know my uncle and cousins are safe and happy there. I know that I will be able to hear and taste the sea from my rooms again if I ever went back.” She sighed. “But I think I have seen too much of the world to be happy on my little island again, for the rest of my life.”

“Mayhaps you can find a home with Lord Willas. I have heard how he calls on you—ever so sweetly.”

Y/N groaned. “Not you as well, Dany!”

The girl only laughed.

Y/N sighed. “Either way, if you want to stay in Essos, you can. What is a few thousand miles to a dragon, hm? Nothing. Your family will never be too far.” She tugged at the end of Daenerys’ braid and listened to the Dothraki bells she had earned ring. “But you mustn’t think of it just yet, Dany. We still have so much more to do.” She pressed a smile to her face. “We have time.”

Daenerys giggled and shook her head. “And we still have so much to do this side of the Narrow Sea.”

**

It had been ages since Y/N had thought of sacking a city. She used to dream of it as a little girl, bringing home riches and other pretty things to fill her rooms and make her parents proud. But perhaps her parents were more bloodthirsty than the rest of Skilliga—and that had been why Uncle Hammond had sent her away to Westeros, to try to quell that need for violence with the niceties of a foreign court and responsibility. But, she had to ask herself as she looked over the maps of the cities and waterways and tunnels, that hadn’t quite worked, had it?

Obara and Nymeria were near-master tacticians, easily finding ways Y/N did not see to surround the city and infiltrate even the thickest of defense walls. But their true expertise, it seemed, in planning diversions.

“I can take a small battalion of freedmen to the west gate and use the two battering rams we have made from the scraps of Valyrian steel.”

“That will give Grey Worm’s host enough of time to march through the South Gate which will be raised by Belwas.”

Dorea was seated on Y/N’s lap, as she often was during war room discussions, moving the pieces across the war map along with her sisters’ plans. Y/N never did mind when she first crawled atop her legs without invitation but had welcomed her every time it happened. She reminded Y/N of the quietly intelligent but playful Rhaenys used to be.

“I like this color,” Dorea said, holding up the Martell orange token embellished with the familiar red dragon of House Targaryen.

“It is pretty, is it not?” Y/N answered. “Can you put that at the West Gate for me?”

The little girl did happily.

“Thank you, Dorea,” She said as she gently swept Dorea’s hair away from her forehead, it had fallen from the intricate braid Ellaria had woven this morning. “We shall make a strategist out of you yet.”

She happily laughed and it drew more smiles from Obara and Nymeria. “I’m hungry.”

“I think the kitchens are just about ready for luncheon, little one. Why don’t you go see?”

Dorea leapt from Y/N’s lap and scurried away with another laugh.

“You are good with her.”

“I have had plenty of practice.”

“When you have your own, I am sure even the nurses will know less than you.”

Y/N huffed at Nymeria’s well-intentioned remark. “I am not sure if I will have any of my own.”

“Why not?” Obara asked, arching one of her dark eyebrows. “It is obvious you crave for some of your own.”

Y/N opened her mouth to respond when the door to the war room opened and Tyene ran inside, her pale cheeks were filled with color and her eyes darted to her sisters.

“Someone has breached our walls.”

Y/N was running out of the room before she could hear the rest of what Tyene had said—she sprinted toward the kitchens, where she knew her charges were probably gathering for their next meal.

And she was, unfortunately, correct.

And it seemed the intruder knew their schedule as well.

Two men with golden harpy masks had Daenerys at the end of their swords. Little Dorea was standing behind her, eyes narrowed. The bodies of the kitchen maids were on the floor, crimson puddles staining the marble floors.

Y/N had meant to sneak up on them. Truly. They hadn’t noticed her presence just yet-

But Aegon and Jon burst in through the other door and drew the harpies’ attention. They pivoted and their swords raised. Y/N shoved Aegon out of the way and felt the warm steel sink into her stomach. And then it happened again, the blade finding the bone of her hip as it broke through. Blood bubbled in her mouth with her next breath and she watched, in a haze, as Jon took one of the men’s head from his shoulders.

“Y/N?” Rhaenys’ voice was fading in her ears as she fell to her knees, she barely saw her eldest standing in the kitchen doorway.

There was a scuffle with the other man, but she hardly noticed, feeling her heart beat in time with the warmth coating her hands. It drip drip dripped onto the marble in an uneven staccato.

It took her a moment to realize that both Rhaenys and Daenerys were trying to speak to her, their little hands pressing over her wounds and trying to staunch the bleeding.

“That hurts,” Y/N said, words tumbling from her mouth without thought. Of course it hurt. She had been stabbed.

“I cannot do this without you,” Rhaenys cried.

“You will be just fine, sunshine.”

Daenerys was yelling for the healers as Aegon and Jon held the other Harpy on his knees.

“Don’t speak like that,” she whispered. “I need you.”

Y/N wanted to say something, wanted to say that she knew Rhaenys and her brothers and aunt would be fine—they would shape the world into a better place with Oberyn, Ellaria, and Willas at their side. She knew because she had seen it—that maybe a bit of the old magic had finally stirred in her foreigner blood. But her blood was currently filling her mouth and her world went dark.

**

She remembered very little from her time under the healer’s hands. Pain, the smell of Milk of the Poppy, someone was crying. And then nothing. Nothing.

Nothing until a warm, soft hand gently cradled her cheek. “I will wait,” someone whispered. “I have waited years, I can wait a few moons longer.”

But she woke, fully, as soon as she could and was told that her movements would be stilted and painful for some time.

Willas was at her side when her eyes opened, clear for the first time in weeks even if her brain did still feel fogged with the Milk of the Poppy. “It is good to see your beautiful eyes again, my lady. We have all missed you.” She spotted Balerion at the foot of the featherbed, looking more content to be in her presence than he had ever been before.

Y/N reached out and scratched behind Balerion's ears before she touched Willas' hand and watched his shoulders sag, as if he had been carrying some unseen weight across his back and had finally been relieved of it. “I mean this in the best way, my lord. But you look as if you have not rested in weeks.”

Willas huffed. “I have not. Most of us have not. We have been taking shifts to be at your side. The healers have said it would be best to keep an eye on you. Lady Ellaria just left, she has been the most dutiful to be at your bedside beside Her Grace, Rhaenys. Oberyn has been diligent in making sure your wrappings were changed.” He squeezed at her hand. “Do I truly look so unwell?”

Y/N smiled, feeling her dry lips crack with the motion. “Still handsome. As always, my lord.”

“Please, call me Willas.”

“We are alone, I suppose it could be appropriate-”

“Always, please, simply call me Willas. We have known each other long enough. Willas. I am Willas just as you are my Y/N.”

“My Willas.” She liked the sound of it. She liked it even more when his cheeks once again bloomed a pretty pink. “Tell me, my Willas, what have I missed since I have come to this bed?”

Apparently she had missed quite a bit.

Yunkai and Meereen had both fallen under the weight of the combined armies of the Unsullied, trained Freedmen, and the Second Sons—and bolstered by the revolts Aegon and Grey Worm had started by slipping into the cities under the cover of darkness to speak to anyone who would listen. Daenerys had united almost all of the Dothraki under a single khalasar and had been named the Great Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, commanding a group of Dothraki the world had never seen. Ser Jorah had been sent away after it had been discovered that he had been sending information to King Robert about the movements of Daenerys and Viserys and had been the reason assassins had been able to track them across Essos. Norvos and Qohor had freed their slaves without the threat of dragons—both cities cited the coming of dragons and magic and prophecy (but Y/N hypothesized that the Dothraki might have ‘helped’ their decision). It was all very…strange. Whispers from the red priests and priestess of the Red God of R’hllor, the Lord of Light, were spreading through all of western Essos, calling the four The Princes who were Promised. Azor Ahai, a prophesized hero. And Oberyn had contracted his old sellsword company, the Second Sons, bringing them under his employ to help bolster their forces. That was where he had gone, apparently he had returned only a few moments after Y/N had been carted off to the healers. Blood was still covering the kitchen when he had come in.

“I have only seen him so distressed once before,” Willas said, still holding her hand.

“Oh?”

“Yes. Lady Ellaria, after bringing little Loreza into the world, she kept…bleeding. And Loreza was called ‘sickly’ and ‘weak.’ The maesters told him to expect to lose them both before the sun went down. I have never seen a man so in love and so enraged. He raged at the world. Pleaded with the gods, cursed them. Oberyn threw the maesters out of the palace and sent for a healer from the Orphans of the Greenblood, an elder wise woman who kept the old gods of the Rhoynar. And she came. When the moon rose, Ellaria was holding little Loreza to her breast and she was smiling.” His thumb drew small circles on the back of her hand. “He only smiled again when he kissed them, moon high in the sky and with river water on his skin.” He sighed and a small smile pushed up his lips. “And then he saw you, covered in your own blood and about to welcome the Stranger with both arms. And I saw that desperate, raging man again.”

Y/N looked at him then, watched his untamed, dark curls fall over his forehead and she reached out with her free hand to gently push them back. Willas leaned into her touch and her heart leapt into throat when he turned his face just the slightest bit to slide his lips against the pulse of her wrist. “But I am here now. I am healing.”

“You are. But there is much more to do, is there not? And you will not stop. Not while your hatchlings, Aegon, Rhaenys, Jon, and Daenerys, still need you.” His grip tightened on her hand just a moment. “You will not stop,” he repeated.

“You know I cannot.”

“Then I will be beside you until this is finished.” He brought their joined hands up to his mouth and he pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “And I still have more to tell you.”

The declarations of war from Lys, Myr, Tyrosh, and Pentos were more of what she was expecting. The might of Braavos and the few war ships little Lorath had were pledged to the Martells’ and Targaryens’ cause.

War had come to Essos again.

**

Y/N supposed she should not have been surprised that a few hundred people decided to leave the Bay and follow them toward the Free Cities. Leaving a city in search of a better life was something she had done, many times over.

Volantis had fallen, surrendered and another city had been added to the growing empire. Like in Astapor, Yunkai, and Meereen, they had settled in the city and weeded out possible uprisings and subterfuge while redistributing the former masters’ wealth and resources to those who deserved it.

When they continued on, part of their army was left to help protect them and help the new council of Freedmen who had pledged loyalty to Rhaenys, Aegon, Jon, and Daenerys.

But before they moved on toward the Free Cities, who were already warring with Braavos and a few battalions sent by Qohor and Norvos, they stopped, once again, at Chroyane.

“I have never seen anything more beautiful,” Oberyn said, a large smile splitting his face. “Even in ruin, she is magnificent.”

The two littlest of the Sand Snakes shrieked at the sight and all but leapt from their horse and into the clear river water. Ellaria laughed as she watched them before tying up her skirt to follow suit.

It was a welcome reprieve. Y/N’s scars ached when she moved too quickly sometimes and the constant jostling of her mare sometimes only made it worse. It felt good to dip her feet into the cooled waters and listen to the children laugh and splash in the river. Balerion once again watched one of the giant turtles with calculating eyes as he let the sun warm his black fur.

Oberyn settled at Y/N’s side on the bank of the river and watched the sun set in a quiet companionship. “I never thought I would see this. I never thought the sun would shine on this part of the world again. And here it is, as beautiful as ever.”

“It is almost as if the Mother Rhoyne was simply waiting for them,” Y/N said, tilting her head just so to indicated Rhaenys and Aegon who were now splashing around with Ellaria and her daughters, dodging Tyene and Nymeria’s hands as they tried to dunk them into the slow moving waves.

The four dragons trilled above them in the crystal blue sky, as content as their bonded.

Oberyn’s roughened, warm hand settled over hers on the bank. Without a word, he leaned into her and pressed a slow kiss against the side of her neck but she felt him smile against her skin as she shivered. “You are magnificent, little shark. I owe you, my family owes you a great debt.”

“I am owed nothing. I only want to see them grow and succeed. I love them.”

“And they love you,” Oberyn said as he sat back to look at her, smile at her in the sun. “My family loves you. I love you.”

Her heart stuttered. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It is. You have made it easy.”

Y/N dropped her chin to her chest, hiding her smile before Oberyn’s finger hooked under her chin and he kissed her briefly.

“Papa!” Dorea called out. “Come play with us!”

Y/N drew back to see his daughters waving him forward, all of them positively drenched. “Go,” Y/N said with a laugh. “You are being summoned.”

Oberyn kissed her cheek before rising and then making a show of running and jumping into the river near them, splashing them all in one motion.

Y/N roared with laughter at the scene but quickly stood when she saw Nymeria and Ellaria turn their gazes to her, hands cupped with water and ready to splash. “Not today!” Y/N stumbled to her feet and managed to evade most of the aimed water as she laughed.

She walked barefoot through the ruins and over the riverbank, seeing their traveling party all partaking in the clean water and cool air. For a moment, there was peace. She spotted Missandei and Grey Worm quietly speaking on the broken stone of a palace, their feet in the water. Irri and Jhiqui were happily watering their horses further downstream while a few other members of the khalasar were racing their mounts through the tall, green grass. Daenerys and Jon were both pulling more weapons from the muck at the opposite bank and handing them off to whomever was by.

But it was Willas, sitting a little further away from the river, which caught her eye. He was cross-legged on the green grass, fiddling with something on his lap while his cane was settled beside him. The sun was shining on his dark hair, curls once again a bit mussed.

“What are you making?”

“A crown,” Willas said, cheeks once again blooming with color as she sat beside him. “My little sister taught me how to do it a few years ago. We would sit in the fields around Highgarden and pluck wildflowers to string together. Hers were always much more polished than mine.”

Y/N leaned a little closer to see that while it might not have been perfectly braided, it was still tightly woven and the flowers were in full bloom. “I think yours is well done, Willas. Will you teach me?”

Y/N laughed as Willas dropped the haphazard crown of white blooms onto her head and it nearly fell over her eyes. “I will let you have mine,” he said, but he did tried to teach her—until Y/N’s indelicate fingers ruined her third crown and she gave up, throwing herself back into the soft grass with a laugh. She reached up for a moment and grabbed the back of Willas’ tunic, pulling him down beside her.

They spoke for a little bit, of magic, of Highgarden, of their adventures in the Bay—now affectionately and rightly dubbed Dragon’s Bay. It was easy.

“If you could go anywhere, where would you go?”

Y/N hummed at the question, mulling the answers in her mind. “I have lived and crossed the Narrow Sea, the Summer Sea, too. I have tasted and tested the Jade Sea. The Shivering Sea holds no value to me and that only leaves…”

“The Sunset Sea.” Willas nodded. She might have noticed a bit of pink touch his cheeks but she did not mention it. “The Mander, the river in the Reach, rushes by Highgarden and empties into the Sunset Sea.” He cleared his throat. “I could… House Tyrell has barges which sail that route easily. I would be happy to make sure you see your wish fulfilled.”

Y/N smiled and shook her head as she turned in the grass to look at him. “You are far too kind, Lord Willas. But what of you? Where would you go?”

The pink was raging on his cheeks now. “I would wish to only be at your side.”

Y/N felt her next breath stall in her throat and she looked at him, his cheeks still filled with pink but his blue eyes were so earnest—they had always been so lovely. “I suppose I do provide a bit of adventure.”

“You provide much more than that. I promise you.”

She wanted to say something. She wanted to say that he provided so much more than anything she could have hoped for but, it seemed that fate had other plans. “Y/N!”

She sat up from the grass to see Daenerys and a still-damp Rhaenys waving her over. The ground shook as both Drogon and Vēzos landed. They made quite a pair, the black and the yellow. “What is it, my loves?”

“We are taking them up to test their wings with riders again.” It had been a new practice, apparently, for all four of them to take their dragons to flight. They were surely large enough for it now.

Daenerys quickly climbed onto Drogon’s back and Rhaenys did the same.

“Come with me,” Rhaenys said, extending a hand toward Y/N. “Fly.”

Without thought, Y/N took Rhaenys’ hand and let her pull her up onto Vēzos’ back. And then, with a rumble, they were taking to the sky, the cool air whipping over her skin as she held, probably too tightly, to the spikes along the dragon’s back. But she listened to Rhaenys laugh and saw Daenerys smile and her momentary fear vanished. They were happy.

And she was flying.

When they landed, a small group of Freedmen were waiting for them and asked for an audience with Rhaenys which she quickly agreed to, always willing to hear anything her subjects would bring to her.

“Your Grace,” one man said, a timid smile on his face. “It would be a great honor if we could rebuild the palace for you and your family. The city.”

Rhaenys shook her head as she reached out toward the man and gently took his rough hands. “Your life is your own. You do not need to rebuild the city simply because I find it lovely.”

The man ducked his head, smile growing. “We know it is not an order you would give, Your Grace. We have made a…” he frowned, searching for the word, “council, as you have in Astapor and Yunkai and Meereen. And we want to stay here, rebuild. The soil is fertile, the trade possibility is strong. We could build a home here, beautiful and strong like it once was.”

Y/N watched Rhaenys’ eyes fill with tears and she diverted her gaze, letting the young queen compose herself.

“And you truly believe that your families could be happy here? It could take years before it is fully rebuilt.”

The man nodded and looked at Rhaenys, his small smile growing. “It will be hard work, but I know it would be worth it, Your Grace. A new home for us, for your family.”

Rhaenys was quiet for a moment before she squeezed the man’s hands again. “Then it would be an honor.”

**

The Disputed Lands had been feuded over and razed and rebuilt over and over again since the Doom. Lys, Tyrosh, and Myr all laid claim to them and would war with the others over the fertile soil. But they now belonged to Rhaenys and her brothers and aunt.

Braavos and Lorath were making almost embarrassingly quick work of conquering the cities with the help of another set of sellsword companies from the north and east, and with the Dragons and their armies making war on them from the west and Y/N and Willas led a small fleet of ships outfitted with weapons salvaged from the Chroyane sailing from the South, it was finished within a few short moons.

The Sealord of Braavos met them just outside the high walls of Pentos, presenting them with the signed surrender of the magistrates and city prince—and a few extra ‘gifts.’ One was the head of Illyrio Mopatis. The next two were faces she barely recognized—and truly, she recognized their names more than their persons. Tyrion Lannister and Varys both had chains around their wrists but seemed pleased with the situation. “They say they want to swear loyalty to your dragon kings and queens.”

“Yes, well,” Y/N’s eyes dragged over the pair, distrusting. “Most do after they see dragonfire.” The fire still blazing behind the walls scented the air.

Y/N left her charges to speak politics with their ally and went to check on the dragons as they rested in the fields. The four had fought bravely, if not a little erratically. They were still getting used to battles and they were still young. They were fearsome though, and Y/N loved them as their riders did. The large creatures huffed in welcome as she neared and she patted their sides in hello.

Oberyn carefully walked toward them, knowing that the dragons recognized him but was still cautious. When they accepted his familiar scent, they either lowered their heads to rest again or nudged him once in greeting. “They are protective of you,” Oberyn said as he watched Y/N stroke at Drogon’s nose, content. “You may not be their bonded rider, but they know you just the same.”

“I think it is because their riders smell like me.”

Drogon huffed.

“He disagrees,” Oberyn said with a laugh. “They recognize you because they feel what their bonded riders feel.”

“I would not argue with a dragon,” Ellaria laughed as she joined them in the field. She reached out and stroked Rhaegal’s side. “They are calling for the Queenmaker,” she said as she watched Rhaegal’s wings stretch.

Y/N sighed. She had earned a few monikers during the conquest of western Essos. She had been called Queenmaker. The Sea Dragon. Preposterous names, truly. The four had given themselves their crowns, forged their own paths. She just made sure they had survived to this point. She did not make them. And she had no dragon of her own. But she answered to the monikers anyway. It was less of an argument. “What has happened now?”

Ellaria chuckled. “I do believe it is to settle a dispute between a few of your Corsairs.”

Y/N nodded and excused herself but was stopped when Ellaria grasped her wrist. She kissed her quickly with a smile. “Come back soon. It has been a long day.”

And Y/N quickly hurried off, a smile on her face.

**

They settled in Pentos. The throne that once belonged to the Prince of Pentos had been divided into four equal chairs, just as all the thrones of the cities they had conquered had been. The rooms were thankfully spacious and an entire room had been filled with the scrap Valyrian Steel they had taken from the ruins and mud of the Chroyane. It would provide food and protection for their new empire if spent correctly—and Willas was already making sure that food was being traded responsibly and fairly between the cities while the sellsword companies they had paid were continuing to be paid to keep their loyalty. And he was also mostly in charge of the ‘care’ of their two Westerosi guests. Tyrion and Varys had proven mostly useful with their knowledge about the political turmoil currently engulfing the Seven Kingdoms and bringing news of the “terrible” death of Tywin Lannister while also providing possible battle plans when they finally did make land for Rhaenys’ crown. But Y/N still did not like them.

But that was not her mission for the day (despite realizing how handsome Willas looked while poring over the parchment detailing food storage and trade routes in his chambers with a slumbering Balerion on his lap). No. Aegon’s ten-and-six nameday was nearly upon them and Y/N had the perfect present in mind. She had given a set of Valyrian Steel-tipped arrows and a dragonbone bow to Rhaenys for her ten-and-sixth nameday, and now it was Aegon’s turn. The stupid lion head pommel was not Valyrian steel so she had no problem seeing it hacked off and reworked. The smith was quick and skilled, easily melting the gold into a puddle to be reformed. She watched him work, perching on the rickety stool in the corner and talking with him as the smoke and steam from his work clouded the forge. He was a genial man, happy to tell his story and hear hers in return. “They are blessed to have you, the little kings and queens.”

Y/N laughed and shook her head. “No, no. I am the blessed. They have been the lights of my life.”

“You have no children?”

Y/N nearly choked on her breath at the blunt question. “N-no. I have been… They have been my children, I suppose.”

The smith nodded at that and then continued to work in silence, attaching the new pommel to the rest of the jeweled hilt. He made it look easy and handed over the sword, now topped with a sun. It was perfect—and finished just in time.

She presented it to him at the end of his favorite meal and laughed when he tried to hug her, still holding the blade out in front of him.

“Let me see it!” Oberyn said with a laugh and Aegon happily handed it over to his uncle who inspected it with a practiced eye. Y/N did not expect the laughter that bubbled out of Oberyn’s throat but it made her smile either way. “Did this have a lion’s head, little shark?”

Y/N nodded.

Oberyn handed the blade back over to Aegon with a flourish. “You are holding the Valyrian steel sword that House Lannister once wielded. I find it…poetic that you will now call it your own.”

“But it needs a name!” Jon said. “All good swords need a name.”

Aegon held the sword up as Rhaenys and Daenerys cheered alongside their family. “It shall be called Sunshard.”

Perhaps she could convince him to change it later or Jon would come up with a better name for the Valyrian Steel axe she had stowed away for his next nameday or the dagger she would give to Daenerys for hers. But for now, she let Aegon swing the sword around like he was a little boy in the training grounds again.

For now, they were happy.

When the celebration died down and they dispersed for the night, the taste of honeycakes and lemon still on their tongues, Y/N found herself surprised to find Daenerys and Rhaenys waiting for her in the small solar connected to her chambers.

“This is a surprise, my loves. How may I help you?”

Rhaenys reached out her hands for Y/N to take and squeezed them both three times with a smile as she pulled her down on the cushioned bench between them. “Today was a joyous day. One finally filled without war or training or bloodshed.”

“We have all fought hard for it,” Daenerys murmured.

“You were a child yourself when you took us with you to Essos. Where had your childhood gone? The court at the Red Keep. Running and hiding with three babes who were not yours through a foreign land.”

“I made that choice. And I would make it again-”

“I am asking you to make the choice to be happy. To let yourself have an adventure without worrying over us.”

“I will always worry over you.”

“Just as we worry over you. You have been our guiding hand, our fiercest protector and staunchest supporter. Our most loyal older sibling. You have loved us. We love you. And we want you to be happy.”

Y/N turned to Daenerys as if that would provide some sort of answer. “Are you asking me to leave your side?”

“Never!” Both Rhaenys and Daenerys shouted.

“We will never send you away. But, we want you to know that if you are called to someone’s side, we want you to be happy.”

“What has brought this on? Have I said something?” The words caught in her throat but Rhaenys simply squeezed her hands again. One two three.

“No. But we have realized that you have set aside everything for us. And we simply want you to be happy.”

They each leaned forward and kissed her on the cheeks. The three spoke for a little longer, calming Y/N’s strange fear of being sent away, before they excused themselves with matching yawns. But Y/N could not sleep. Not with that strange revelation singing in her ears.

She pulled on her dressing gown and padded down to the gardens of the palace. She could hear the sea and it was a small comfort. But she turned at the familiar tap of a cane against stone and smiled as Willas settled beside her.

“You could not sleep either?”

He shook his head, curls sliding against his ears. “I suppose I am now accustomed to a little more excitement during the day to tire me out.”

Y/N chuckled and angled her head up to look at the glittering stars. “But it was a good day. I can sleep late tomorrow.”

The pair was quiet for a moment, the comfortable silence between them only broken by the inconsistent chittering of a bird or the sea crashing against the city walls.

“When this is over, will you rest?”

Y/N frowned at the question and turned to look at him. “Rest?”

“When the little hatchlings are settled in their kingdoms and safe. Where will you be?”

“I…” She tried to find the words she needed but she did not know the answer.

Willas reached out and gently grasped her hand. “You deserve rest too, my lady.” He looked at her, blue eyes shining and a familiar pink tint to his cheeks.

The quiet moment was cut short by a violent scream—one Y/N knew too well. She leapt to her feet and dashed back into the palace. Y/N pushed through the hall and burst into Rhaenys’ room to see her shivering on her bed. “Oh, my sunshine.”

Rhaenys reached out for her and Y/N instantly wrapped her arms around her as they sunk into the plush featherbed. “They have come again,” she whispered. “The cold. The ice. The terrible dead men. They are haunting me again.” Rhaenys reached up and played with the sun pendant. And then she was a little girl again and Y/N was reading her a story about talking turtles to help her sleep. “We have to go back to Westeros,” Rhaenys said, voice soft but steady. “They are coming.”

A/N: Please let me know what you think! Your reblogs, likes, and comments mean the world to me!

(and another banner by the lovely @thesadvampire​) 

Beautiful people who asked to be tagged: @pettyprocrastination @evyiione @elinedjarin @xsadderdazeforeverx @revolution-starter

[witchygirl99]

finding a photo of your enemy as a toddler, inukag

Ask, and you shall receive.

1800 words under the cut. Not edited. Written at work so it was a shoddy rush job and everything is very vague and you'll just have to accept this.

I'll write a proper, better video gamer AU one day. For now though...

Won't You Say (You Love Me, Too)

The thing is—

The thing is that Inuyasha isn’t meant to be here. Sure, he’s a little drunk. And sure, Koga’s stupid face dared him, because Koga is both stupid, has a face, and that face is stupid. Inuyasha didn’t have to listen, though. Inuyasha could have done a billion other things, like walk away, or laugh the dare off, or – or – could have even gotten himself another drink.

That… That would have been the smarter plan.

Inuyasha hiccups, flinching at the noise. He is so not supposed to be here.

“Inuyasha,” stupid Koga hisses from below. It’s probably supposed to be a whisper. It’s not. It’s like…quieter yelling, but yelling nonetheless.

Haughtily, Inuyasha glares down at his teammate. The window that he’s jimmied open to break into the Priestess House is still open. It’s unseasonably warm for an autumn night, but it’s strangely comforting. At least, Inuyasha thinks so. That could just be the alcohol talking, though.

“Inuyasha,” Koga hisses again, “what do you see?”

He blinks, frowns, and then squints into the dark room. There’s not a ton of illumination from either the moon, or the streetlights. He thinks, dimly, that this is a…bedroom? A bedroom. This is not, in fact, the office that they thought they were breaking into.

[Read the rest below the cut.]

He takes in a deep breath, brain pinging at him worriedly. He knows this scent. It’s familiar. Too familiar. Inuyasha should know whose room he’s in and it’s on the tip of his tongue – his nose? No, that’s not a saying – when Koga makes another hissing sound.

Ugh.

“What?” Inuyasha snarls, so desperate to glare out the window at his stupid teammate and at said stupid teammate’s face that he nearly stumbles. Bracing himself on the little table underneath, he makes a point to roll his eyes when the wolf demon waves alarmingly at him. “What is so urgent that you need to—”

“I hear them,” Koga whisper-yells, because he’s stupid. “They’re just down the street.”

“What?” he exclaims, but this time it’s desperate rather than irritated. “I thought Miroku said the girls would be gone for at least an hour.”

“Well, his intel is shit,” Koga replies. “Now get out!”

So much for sneaking into their offices to find out if any of their playing strategies would be visible. The regional gaming tournament is only two days away, and every single member of the six-person Priestess team has been dominating the competition. Their battle strategies have taken weaker characters and turned them into something surprisingly efficient. It should be impossible. Character stats don’t lie.

And yet. And yet. The women of the Priestess House have made a mockery of nearly everyone there. And the worst of them?

Kagome Higurashi. The absolute bane of his existence. She came onto the scene about three years ago, rising up the ranks. Inuyasha hadn’t even given her a second thought until The Incident last year.

The Incident, in which she—

“Inuyasha,” Koga hisses again, like an angry cat. A cat. Not a wolf. Inuyasha should tell him this. Inuyasha is desperate to tell him this. “You need to jump out the window, you fuck.”

Right. The Priestess girls were coming back. Kagome would be with them and that would be— That would be bad. Not just because of the breaking and entering, or the trespassing. It would be bad because Inuyasha would have to be around her for likely more than a minute, which would mean that he’d have to stare into those dark eyes and that too-kind smile – like they’re friends, which they are not – and then—

“For fuck’s sake, I’m going to leave you,” Koga states, and that finally drills through Inuyasha’s pretty drunk skull. Can skulls be drunk?

No?

Maybe.

“I’m coming,” Inuyasha replies, pushing upwards, but he’s an idiot. The table underneath him isn’t that sturdy, and so his pressure on it to climb back out the window from which he entered sends a picture frame crashing to the ground.

“Inuyasha!”

“Oh my god, say my name one more time and I will murder you!” Inuyasha snaps. Koga is not helping, that fucking fuck. “Hold the fuck on, we can’t let them know—” And he bends down to grab the frame and put it back. Hopefully whoever’s room this is won’t notice.

And then he sees the picture in the frame, practically mocking him. It’s fucking Kagome Higurashi, no more than four years old and clinging to a small baby who looks distinctly unhappy by the entire experience. It’s undoubtedly her. While there’s more chub to her cheeks, those are the same sparkling eyes and that’s the same beaming smile. He would know that smile anywhere because it always makes him feel off-balance, confused. No one just smiles at people, at strangers. No one just smiles at you while they’re getting destroyed in one-on-one battle, and then shakes your hand with that same happy smile when they’ve lost. They don’t use that exact same smile when they see you again later in the year, at another tournament, and only stop smiling when they beat you so badly—

Oh god.

Oh fucking god.

This is Kagome’s bedroom. This is Kagome’s bedroom and he’s in her room and—

Kagome Higurashi at four years old smiles the exact same way, and she’s clinging to a little boy and that’s a big purple dinosaur right beside her on the couch. A dinosaur. She likes dinosaurs, oh god this is the worst—

“Godspeed, fucker,” Koga whispers-yells. “We hardly knew ye!” There’s the distinct sound of bushes rustling. His own teammate has abandoned him. Inuyasha is going to commit murder.

Firmly putting down the picture frame, Inuyasha starts the careful climb back out the window. He’s got one leg out, half of his body strained to reach the little lip in the brickwork he climbed up earlier. His hands grab at the sill, twisting him, and then he sees it.

It.

The purple dinosaur.

It’s on her bed, perfectly placed and disgustingly cute.

“Oh no,” Inuyasha groans, and then promptly shoves himself out the window. It takes him ten precious seconds to balance, and then another ten seconds to close the window and hide the fact he ever broke in in the first place. At the first sound of voices, Inuyasha freezes against the brick, propped up in a little corner and distinctly not looking down. It’s not a far drop, but the last thing Inuyasha needs is to lose his balance, topple into the garden, and then have the Priestess women come running to see what the fuck happened.

He waits, breath nearly held, until they start opening the door. There’s enough fuss and discussion that Inuyasha feels safe in making his escape, running away like the hounds of hell are chasing him. He doesn’t stop. He doesn’t look back.

When he finds Koga, lounging on the couch and drinking yet another beer at their shared gaming house, it takes a solid ten seconds of very slow counting to remind himself that murder is bad.

Besides, they have a tournament to win on Saturday.

X+X

The next day, Inuyasha finds himself looking for purple dinosaurs on Amazon.

This is, well, not ideal.

“What are you doing?” Hachi asks, eyes narrowed in confusion and then widening in concern when Inuyasha flinches to hide this embarrassing lack of restraint. “Wow, okay.”

“Fuck off,” Inuyasha replies, but he’s too mortified to even make it mean-sounding. He just comes off as pathetic.

There’s a snort in the doorway, and Miroku comes bumbling in with a clipboard. He takes his duties as team manager far too seriously. “What did Hachi do wrong now?”

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Hachi replies, eyeing Inuyasha again. “He’s the one that went all crazy when I asked him what he was doing.”

“And what was he doing?” Miroku presses. He’s grinning like a fool because he’s the worst. The worst best friend a guy could ask for. Inuyasha doesn’t know why he’s teammates with these idiots. It’s bad enough he’s got to deal with Koga.

“I wasn’t do anything,” he tries, but Hachi’s just shaking his head.

“Looking at his phone. I don’t know.”

Miroku turns to him, a shark that smells blood in the water. “Your phone? Who are you texting?”

“No one,” Inuyasha scoffs. “Fuck off.”

This gets a nod, and he has one moment of hope that Miroku won’t push the issue when his best friend hums. “You’re right. You have no friends outside of this team.”

“I’m not his friend!” Koga yells from somewhere else in the house.

Inuyasha sighs.

“So you must have been watching something.”

“No,” Hachi argues, “he was holding his phone like this. He was reading something, or maybe scrolling?”

“Inuyasha can’t read!” comes Koga’s voice again. They all ignore him.

“You’re not on Instagram,” Miroku hums, playing fucking Sherlock Holmes. “And you’re definitely not on TikTok. Discord is just another form of talking to people, so that’s out.”

Growling, he shoves his phone in the pocket of hoodie and gets up. “I am leaving.”

“Ooh, he’s leaving,” his friend continues, blue eyes alight with something dangerously close to glee. “Fuck, it has to be about Kagome then. That’s the only time you get this pissy.”

“Ha!” Hachi laughs because he, too, is the worst.

“That’s my future wife!” Koga yells from the other room, but that’s just because he’s delusional. As if someone like Koga could fucking rub two braincells together enough to impress her. Inuyasha’s face does a thing at the very thought.

“Oh my god, it is!” Miroku cackles.

“No,” Inuyasha answers, and he thinks he does a pretty good job of remaining calm. “But fuck you, anyways.”

“Are you reading her Wikitubia again?” his friend asks and that is it—

“One time!” Inuyasha yells, storming away from the main room. “That was one time!”

His teammates’ laughter follows him all the way back to his bedroom. Shippo, rubbing at his eyes after his nap – because he acts like a literal child, it’s embarrassing – just stares at him confusedly. “What did I miss?”

Inuyasha doesn’t stop walking. “Absolutely fucking nothing.” He gets into his room, shuts the door with a disturbing amount of care, and then leaps onto his bed to try and suffocate himself with a pillow. The walls of their gaming house aren’t that thick. If he tries hard enough, Inuyasha could hear the shit they’re undoubtedly still talking about him.

One time, Inuyasha pathetically whines in his head. He was only caught staring at her Wikitubia page one time. He was sizing up the enemy. Looking for weaknesses to exploit. That’s the only reason he did it. Just like that’s the only reason he watches her YouTube videos religiously, at least once a day, and always at night once everyone else has fallen asleep.

It’s not because of anything weird. It’s because she’s the enemy. She’s the competition. Inuyasha must figure out a way to destroy her.

Later that night, when he goes back to re-watching an old YouTube video of hers – one Kagome had posted within the first month of her rise to so-called fame – that he sees it.

It.

The purple dinosaur.

Sitting propped up on some pillows, like a prized treasure.

“Motherfucker,” Inuyasha snaps. He doesn’t stop the video, though. There could be secrets. Weaknesses to exploit. Yadda yadda yadda, he’s not in denial, this is only his third time watching it, blah blah—

Kagome smiles in the video and his chest does the thing.

Inuyasha sighs. Miroku can never, ever see his browsing history.

X+X

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